


30 Days of Book Husbands

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Crush, Fluff, Interspecies Relationship, M/M, badass bookworms, book husbands, character death in chapter 5 and 15, date, do fashion and pretty clothes count as a kink anyway, loads of fluff, other tags to come as I write them, slight fashion kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-05 04:51:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 22,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>30 Days OTP challenge, Bilbo/Ori edition</p><p>Because small nerdy badass bookworms have to stand united.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. holding hands

**Author's Note:**

> Bilbo/Ori is my secret ultimate OTP that is sadly very unde-represented . Which is sad. Because I love them. And they are cute. 
> 
> And what do I do when I have a ship that no one else writes about? I spam the world with silly writings, that's what I do.

The Stone Giants were one of the most terrifying things that Bilbo had ever seen, and when he realized that they were all standing on the leg of one, that they were trapped in the middle of their fight… He had known he might die on that quest of theirs, but being crushed against a cliff wasn’t a scenario he had imagined. He exchanged a look with Ori, who was standing next to him, and on the young dwarf’s face he saw a reflection of his own fear.

It was a true miracle that they survived. There had been the smallest of spaces between the giant’s knee and the cliff, but they were all small people. A man or an elf would have been squished to death. But they had survived. They were fine.

They were _safe_.

Until Bilbo turned to make sure everyone was indeed safe, slipped on a piece of rock, and fell to his death.

Well, maybe not to his death as such. He managed to catch himself, barely, and was left hanging from the cliff, not daring to move. If he moved he would die. He would die, and this adventure had barely started, and he had been a dead weight all along. He would die, and it would take him several minutes to fall down all the way to the bottom of that valley.

“Bilbo!”

The hobbit managed to raise his head, and once again he met Ori’s eyes, who seemed just as afraid as he was. But scared or not, the young dwarf was on the ground, holding out his hand towards Bilbo. The hobbit wanted to take it, tried to move, but his grip on the rock wasn’t strong enough. Ori tried to reach down, to catch the hand that was holding onto the cliff, and in that was soon joined by Bofur, but neither of them could help.

Bilbo was going to die. And it wasn’t fair, not when he still had so much he wanted to see and do. He couldn’t die before he’d even seen the dwarves’ blasted _mountain_ , it was too stupid.

Thank heaven, just as his strength started failing him, Thorin came and saved him. Only to insult him again and remind him what a dead weight he had been, and how he should never have come. Bilbo had known better days. Maybe the crownless king was right. He had no place amongst the dwarves, it had been foolish of him to follow them. He was meant to be in Bag-End, like the respectable, boring little hobbit that he was, and to remain there until his death, which would probably happen out of boredom.

The feeling of a hand on his drew him away from his dark thought. Attached to the hand was Ori, a kind smile on his face.

“Don’t mind Thorin,” the small dwarf told him. “He was just scared. We all are. After a good night of sleep, he’ll… well, he will not apologize of course, but he won’t be so cross after you.”

“Until I do something stupid again. Or not. I don’t even have to do anything at that point, just the fact that I’m here angers him. Maybe he’s right.”

“If you don’t belong in the company, then neither do I,” Ori mumbled. “I’m not doing a lot more than you are, and at least you have the excuse of not having been raised by dwarves.”

“Now, don’t say that, lad!” Bilbo protested, brushing his thumb over the dwarf’s hand. “You have been nothing but brave so far, and you’ve done a lot to help everyone whenever you could, which was more often that you seem to think.”

“And so have you,” Ori retorted with a sly smile. “So don’t mind Thorin. He just as too big an ego to admit he cares about people, that’s all. You’re one of us, Mr Baggins, just as much as I am.”


	2. Cuddling somewhere

Bilbo baggins was a very dignified hobbit, thank you very much. He did not approve of dwarves _laughing at him_ , not matter how friendly Bofur and Bombur usually were towards him. He approved even less of their laughter when the reason for it was that they had found him with Ori. Alone with Ori. Alone, with Ori, in the young dwarf’s arms.

“We were _not_ cuddling,” the blushing hobbit explained to two very amused dwarves. “Ori was just… we were comparing our arm’s length to see if I could borrow one of his cardigans. It’s going to be frightfully cold in the mountains, and I didn’t pack very well, what with leaving home in a hurry and all that.”

“Oh, I’m sure the lad will be more than happy to help ye stay warm,” Bofur teased with a wink. “Aren’t ye, laddie? Yer concern for the little burglar does us all credit, ye know!”

Ori blushed, his face almost entirely burrowed in his scarf, and he took a step away from the hobbit.

“We weren’t doing no wrong,” he mumbled. “It’s just as mister Baggins said…”

“Aye, sure it was,” Bombur chuckled. “Well, you’re lucky your brothers weren’t with us, or I think no one else would ever have to worry again about the hobbit being cold, eh?”

Ori threw him a panicked look.

“You won’t tell them, will you? Oh, Dori would imagine all sorts of stupid things, don’t tell them!”

“No one will tell them a thing,” Bofur promised. “But try to be more careful next time, ye two. We’re in a house of elves, it’s no time to be fooling around.”

“But we weren’t fooling around!” Ori insisted.

“Aye, and Bombur’s thin as a wasp. We’ll leave ye to yer not fooling around then. Try to remember to join us for dinner, or it’s Dori who’ll come looking for you next, and he won’t be half as amused by it.”

The two brothers had gone then, leaving behind them a very flustered Ori and a rather worried Bilbo.

“Are your brothers really that bad, my boy? Dori seems so nice, and… well. I’d be very sorry to have dragged you into any sort of trouble.”

“I’m the one who started it, so I should be apologizing, mister Baggins. I’m sorry they didn’t believe you, and I’m sorry I… I did that. It wasn’t right.”

“Yes, well. I didn’t _protest_ , did I? I was perfectly fine with all this, until these two idiots came in and ruined it.”

Ori shot him a surprised look.

“You… you don’t mind, then? That I…”

“No, I don’t mind at all,” Bilbo assured him with a smile. “And I wouldn’t mind… picking up where we left off, if that’s agreeable to you? I would never have expected dwarves to be cuddly, but you are terribly _comfortable_.”

“It’s the cardigan,” Ori answered distractingly, once again going closer to the hobbit and taking him in his arms.

“I’m sure it’s not just that,” Bilbo retorted with a fond smile, pulling the young dwarves closer, and burying his head in the crook of Ori’s neck.

Just for this, it had been worth it to spend so many nights outside on the ground.


	3. gaming

“Are you seriously telling me you’ve never played chess?”

Ori shook his head, embarrassed by this gap in his knowledge, and Bilbo frowned.

“This won’t do at all. It’s a lovely game, and I’m sure you would love it, if you just gave it a try. Come on my boy, let’s go see if the elves have a board!”

“I… I don’t think it’s necessary to disturb them, they’ve already done so much to help, and…”

“Nonsense! They’ll probably be very happy to see a dwarf playing one of their games. It will be a great cultural exchange, you’ll see!”

The young dwarf looked about to protest, but when Bilbo grabbed his hand and started pulling him to the nearest elf, a beautiful young lady with long dark hair, Ori just blushed and remained silent. As the hobbit had predicted, the elves made no problem to provide them with a chessboard, and a few of them sat around them as Bilbo explained the rules. Ori listened carefully, trying his best to remember everything.

“It does sound rather like planning a battle,” he said after a moment. “The moves of the various pieces are more restrictive than they would be in war, but…”

“Ah, yes, they say the game was inspired by a battle, actually. So, do you think you’d like to play? I’ll help you until you get better at it, of course.”

Ori nodded. They started playing.

The yound dwarf made many mistakes at first, confusing the various pieces and the way they all moved. But by the end of their second game, Ori had the basic concept covered, and Bilbo realized that if he didn’t start playing in earnest for the third one, he would be crushed mercilessly.

“You are good at this,” the hobbit commented with a large smile, barely saving his king from a check. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone learn that quickly… We’ll have to play again, after we’ve left Rivendell. I haven’t had that much fun in years, not since my mother died. She’s the one who taught me how to play, you know.”

“Maybe… Maybe I could make us a board, one day,” Ori suggested shyly. “To play together. If… if you want to?”

“That would be lovely, yes. And… Ori…”

“Yes?”

“Checkmate, my boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this headcanon that, at the beginning of their relationship, Bilbo calls Ori "my boy" because he's quite convinced that he just sees the dwarf like one of his young cousins. And then he realizes that Ori is more than that. But he still calls him "my boy" because omg can't have him notice  
> And I think he keeps doing it even after they become a couple, until Ori mentions that he doesn't like it too much because seriously, he's older than Bilbo and he's an adult, thank you very much.


	4. On a date

Bilbo’s dreadful cold was finally over, and Thorin had announced that they would be leaving Laketown the following morning. The hobbit felt he would have enjoyed to have some time to properly rest, since all he had done so far was try to heal, but he dared not protest. Thorin had been in a dark mood for their entire stay, and he wasn’t the only one. Most of the older dwarves recalled only too well the last time they had been around Erebor, and all they had lost then. Even those who had not been there at the time were afflicated by these grim memories.

And the hobbit wasn’t feeling much better than the dwarves, of course. In a few days, he’d have to try to find a way inside a mountain, and to get close to a dragon to discover its weak point. That was why they had taken him with them of course, he had always known, but now it was all becoming far too real for his taste.

He hoped that the rumors were true, that the beast was dead. It would make his job a lot easier.

Until then, he sat on a chair and stared at the distant mountain. It was almost pretty, in a way, shining white in the late fall’s summer. It would be so different when they would be there, in the middle of the night, so close to the dragon…

“Mister Baggins?”

Bilbo almost leaped out of his chair and reached for his sword, until he realized that it was Ori next to him. Damn everything, if he couldn’t even feel safe inside a house, then he really was turning into a dwarf.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” the yound dwarf mumbled, looking concerned.

“It’s alright, my boy. I was just… deep in thought.”

And as he said that, his eyes went back to the mountain. He heard more than saw Ori move, and the small scribe came to lean against the window ledge. That he was as worried as the hobbit was clear, but Bilbo wasn’t sure he had the energy to try and reassure him this time.

“I’ve never been there, you know,” Ori said casually. And Bilbo knew, of course. They had talked a little about the lad’s past before. “It’s so important for Dori, and for Nori too, because that’s where they lived and where they were happy… but honestly I don’t care at all about it. It’s their home, not mine. My home is in the West, in Ered Luin.”

“Why did you come, then?”

“Adventure. And to be the official narrator of… of this tale. It’s an honour. Thorin asked for me specifically. Well, not that there are many scribes and scholars among our people anyway… but he asked, and I came. And now…”

“Do you regret it?”

Ori kept silent for a moment, gazing at the mountain. Afternoon shadows were beginning to fall on it, and it wasn’t so pretty anymore. It looked more like a giant dagger, waiting to kill them all, in the most treacherous way possible.

“No, I don’t really regret it,” Ori eventually said. “There have been too many good things. I’ve been in Lord Elrond’s presence, ate his food, met his people. I’ve fought and proved myself in battle. I’ve seen Beorn and his lands, I’ve crossed Mirkwood. I… I’ve met _you_. Even if we die in a week, I can’t really regret all this, can I?”

Bilbo smiled, and reached out to take the dwarf’s hand.

“I can’t say I regret it either. I _am_ scared though.”

“You’d be stupid otherwise,” Ori chuckled nervously. “Even Kili has the brains to be scared, and that says it all.”

“Now, my boy, that’s not very kind, is it?”

“True though. But, well, that’s why I was here, actually. I… I’ve got something to ask of you, if… if you’re not doing anything tonight?”

Bilbo tensed, but did not let go of the dwarf’s hand. They had not talked about _that_ yet, and he had been ever so glad that Ori didn’t seem to eager, but it was their last chance to have a bed in quite a while, maybe their last chance ever, and it scared him almost as much as the dragon did, but at the same time?

“Would you… have dinner with me tonight, mister Baggins? In, in a proper inn I mean, rather than with the rest of the company?”

The hobbit’s eyes opened widely at the suggestion. That was something dwarves didn’t normally do, he knew it. They had talked about it. Dwarves didn’t go out together for a drink and food, or at least not in a context of seducing. It was a hobbit custom, though, and it meant a lot to Bilbo that Ori would do such a thing for him.

“It would be my pleasure. Do you… have a specific place in mind, or…”

“Yes, Nori recommended one of the inns. He said _he_ would never waste his time there, so it’s got to be a nice place.”

“I imagine that’s to be expected from him, yes. When shall we go, then? I suppose it is still a little early for that… Then again, if we’re going out, I will need to change. I can’t be seen in public dressed like that, not when the people here have gifted me a few nice little outfits, don’t you agree.”

The small dwarf started at him almost hungrily and nodded in silence. That earning him a smile from Bilbo. Even with a cold messing with his head, he had noticed the way Ori had looked at him when he had first tried the clothes given to him by people of Laketown. He did not consider himself a vain hobbit, but it was still nice to know his looks were appreciated.

“Should I… is it required that I dress up?” Ori asked. “I… I don’t really know how this is supposed to… to happen. I’ve never done this before.”

“Just wear something that feel comfortable,” Bilbo advised him. “I need to change because I’ve been in those for three days now. My mother would kill me if she knew that, really. A shame to all hobbits I am, and just because of a small cold! But you are already nice and clean, so it should not be a problem. Although…”

“Yes?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I like that tunic, and it’s a nice present from the humans, but I rather miss seeing you in that big cardigan of yours. It feels a lot more like you, if you know what I mean.”

Ori smiled at that, and kissed Bilbo on the cheek before leaving to warn Dori that they would not be there at dinner. Bilbo grinned stupidly, and when he looked again at the window, the Lonely Mountain didn’t seem half as frightening.

* * *

 

The left the house around sunset, after heavy teasing from most of the company. Thorin was the only one to say nothing, but then again, Bilbo had long ago that the crownless king had little taste for good humour and pleasant things. Too bad for him. It would have taken more than Thorin Oakenshield’s sour character to put a dent in Bilbo’s good mood that night.

Ori and him had a lovely evening at a nice inn by the lake. They ordered fish and chips, which meant that Bilbo ate the fish and Ori the chips, and everyone was happy. The small dwarf had been terribly nervous at first, clearly worried that he would somehow mess up this _date_ thing because he did not know its rules. He had eventually relaxed though, and they were now having more fun that Bilbo had ever had in such circumstances, as he told Ori.

“Have you had many… dates, then?” the dwarf enquired.

“A few. Never with boys. There was a girl I liked, when I was a tween, and I thought it would be serious, but in the end it didn’t work out. Then a few month later I tried my chance with… I can’t remember her name. She got married a few years later, and I stopped trying after her. I never was in the mood for it, after I lost my parents. It all seemed very pointless. Until the day thirteen dwarves held a party in my house and took me in an adventure, thanks to which I met you.”

Bilbo smiled, and Ori blushed.

“What about you, my boy. Have you had many… _particular friendship_ in the past? Do dwarves, hm… do that sort of things?”

“Dwarves, not so much. But I’m a poor excuse of a dwarf, and I spent many years in a town of men, to learn my craft. Men are more… easy about some things, and I’ve had a few… _encounters_. But nothing… nothing like _this_.”

To be honest, Bilbo had never had anything quite like that either. He wasn’t even sure what that was. In the Shire, between two hobbits, he would have called it courting, and a rather scandalous one at that. They had done nothing improper as such yet, but they were often sleeping together (to stay warm) and they walked hand in hand (dwarves had a terrible sense of orientation, Ori might get lost), they cuddled often at night, by the camp fire (again, they had to share the warmth) and whenever they managed to get a bit of privacy, which wasn’t often enough, the stole kisses, more and more heated ones as the days went by (Bilbo could find no excuse for those, but it didn’t matter because they felt nice).

No, he really wasn’t sure what it was that existed between them. But he certainly hoped it would last.

“You look very thoughtful, mister Baggins.”

“That would be because I am thinking, my boy. And I think I’ve told you already to call me Bilbo, haven’t I? We are at a date, your foot is caressing my calf, and I have every intention to kiss you senseless as soon as we are in a less crowded area. I think I can safely say it’s time to start using my first name, really.”

“Is that a promise about kissing, mist… Bilbo?” Ori asked, his cheeks red but his eyes straight on the hobbit.

“Oh, it certainly is. But first, dessert, if you don’t mind.”

“I think we have cakes at the house, we could… go there and see if there’s any left,” Ori suggested with a shy grin. “I had one at tea time, they were rather good. And it would be… far less crowded.”

“A most interesting offer. Let us relocate then,” Bilbo replied with a fond smile.

The mountain and its dragon were all but forgotten now. It was one of the nicest evenings he’d had in a very long time, and it was far from being over.


	5. kissing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was writing, minding my own business, and then angst happened.  
> I'll try to make it not happen to often.  
> I'm into this ship for its fluffy potential after all. If I wanted angst, I'd write Bagginshield.

Bilbo wasn't sure the first kiss really happened. Ori had joined him for the night, as they usually did because the nights were cold, and Nori and Dori were hell to sleep with. They had talked a moment, like old friends. Then sleep had started coming, Bilbo had closed his eyes. And in his last moments of consciousness, he was almost sure he felt a large hand cupping his jaw and soft lips on his forehead.

When morning came, Ori didn't mention it, so neither did Bilbo.

* * *

 

The second kiss is a more certain thing, because it happened in daylight. It was right after the trolls, right after Gandalf had saved save (with some help from Bilbo, though he didn't correct the others on that, since he felt the whole thing had been his fault)

It had all ended rather well in the end, but Bilbo simply could not get over the fact that Ori, sweet little Ori, had tried to kill trolls with a _slingshot_. _His_ Ori, the little dwarf whom he had thought to be so much like a hobbit, who tried to tell jokes in Elvish and who had read as many books as him, who drew and wrote better than Bilbo ever would. Had attacked _trolls_. With a _slingshot_.

"They would have _killed you_ ," the small dwarf had whined when Bilbo scolded him for being as reckless as Kili. "And you're my friend, even if I'm not yours. I couldn't just stand here and let them hurt you, could I?"

"I think of you as a friend too, my boy, don't doubt that. And...I suppose... But a slingshot, _really_?"

"Dori won't let me have anything else. He... says if I learned how to use weapons, I'd get into all sorts of trouble, like Nori..."

"Whereas like this, you only risked getting killed," Bilbo had sighed. "We'll have to ask someone to get you something better. Maybe Fili or Dwalin? They have more weapons than they could ever use, I'm sure of it."

"You're... not angry anymore, then?"

Bilbo had laughed, and on an impulse he had kissed Ori's temple.

"I was never angry, you silly boy! Just terribly scared for you. Don't do that again, please? I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you."

Ori had nodded, his cheeks red as a beet, and Bilbo had smiled. He couldn't say it aloud, it would have been terribly selfish of him, but the idea that the young dwarf had taken such risks for _him_ had touched him more than it should have.

* * *

 

The first time Ori had properly kissed him, on the mouth, they were at Rivendell. The two of them had taken to cuddling, and it was all perfectly innocent and friendly, really. Ori was just an affectuous young dwarf, and Bilbo missed this sort of things very much. At home, he often had visits from his young cousins, many of which showed their affection in a very physical way. It was exactly like that, only instead of having a little hobbit on his lap, it was him sitting on a bench between a dwarf's legs.

It wasn't exactly _proper_ , and anyone finding them that way might have gotten the wrong idea. But it had all been very innocent. It really _was_.

Until the moment Ori had bent just so, and had kissed him, barely a peck on his lips, but enough to make him jump in surprise.

"What are you doing?" the hobbit had asked a little coldly maybe, but more surprised than angry.

"I just... I don't know," Ori had mumbled, his face red. "I thought... I'm sorry... I'm sorry! I shouldn't have, and I'm sorry!"

"It's not..."

"I'm sorry!" the young dwarf had cried, untangling himself from Bilbo, and running away from the room before the hobbit could stop him.

And it was probably for the best, Bilbo had thought. He had never realized that the lad could have such feelings (lies), and had thought they were just very good friends (lies) and he himself only liked Ori as he would his cousins (lies). A dwarf and a hobbit could not have a relationship of this sort (lies) and it was so queer, such affection between men (truth maybe, but who _cared_ when Ori was so sweet and strong all at once, when he liked the same book as Bilbo and they laughed at the same jokes)

It was for the best when Ori had stopped spending time with him after that. Things couldn't end well, and Bilbo hadn't tried to get near the boy again.

* * *

 

The fourth kiss had been on the Carrock. Bilbo had almost died so many times in the past few days, and so had Ori (Both of them almost crushed by the Stone Giants. Threats of tortures from the Goblin King, Kili had said. Fell from the tree and barely caught in time by an eagle, Bofur had added)

Suddenly, it had not seemed so important that then were both males, that Ori was so young.

They had been on a foolish quest to reconquer a mountain neither of them had ever seen, and death had beenwaiting for them with every step, and that he had liked that dwarf more than he should have. So he had taken Ori's hand, and dragged him a little way from the rest of the group. Close enough that Dori wouldn't worry, far enough that no one would hear them.

"You kissed me in Rivendell," Bilbo had said, and that hadn't been a very good start but he had been too tired to find something better.

"I've already said I was sorry..."

"I'm not. I am really not. I am so not sorry that I would kiss you now, if I wasn't afraid that your brothers would skin me alive."

"They wouldn't do it," Ori had replied, as in a daze. "They like you. They'd kill you _before_ skinning you. You... Are you... serious, mister Baggins?"

"Terribly so, my boy. I... like you, Ori. I really do."

The smile on Ori's face was the largest and happiest Bilbo had ever seen on anyone, and it had taken all of his self control not to kiss the young dwarf just there and then. As it happened, Ori had been of a different mind, and in the blink of an eye, there had been lips against Bilbo's, and strong hands on his hip and back, pulling him closer.

And nothing in the world could have felt more right than that.

* * *

 

Biblo had stopped counting their kisses soon after that, be he still remembered all the important ones. His favourites were the one they had shared at Beorn, after Dori and Nori had begrudgingly give their approval to their relation.

"As long as it makes Ori happy, the rest doesn't matter," Dori had muttered. Nori had just nodded, and winked at Bilbo, as if to say that he really didn't mind.

Their kisses in Mirkwood had felt desperate, whether those after the last of their food had been gone, or that single one in Thranduil's dungeons, between the bars of Ori's cell.

Those they had exchanged in Esgaroth had been heated and needy and perfect, in every possible ways.

The kiss they hadn't had, the one before going to battle against the goblins, was the one that had hurt Bilbo the most.

The kisses from after the battle had been cold and sad. Bilbo had known he could not stay, just as he had known Ori could not follow him. His brothers had needed him, Erebor had needed him.

Bilbo needed him too, but he had known it would be unfair to use that argument.

"I'll come see you in the Shire," Ori had promised, his eyes shining with tears. "I'l come and see you every year if I can. Even if it's just for a few days. We'll read our favourite books while you smoke that horrible pipe of yours and I'll drink all your best tea."

"That sounds like a lovely plan, Ori. I can't wait for your first visit."

"Neither can I. But you're not gone yet, Bilbo, and we've got this room all to ourselves until sunset, because my brother are out helping, and... we don't have to, if you don't want to, but... that is..."

"There's nothing I'd want more, Ori. If... if you'll show me how?"

These kisses had been Bilbo's favourite, without a shadow of a doubt, and in later, darker moments, he would always think of that afternoon to lift the clouds. Ori's hand on him, their little sounds of pleasure, the warmth, his mouth devouring Ori's, his groans as the dwarf took him and brought him to completion.

 _This_ he would never regret, nor forget.

* * *

 

And then had come the last kiss.

Bilbo hadn't known at the time that it was their last one. Ori had come visiting, as he often did (not every year, the roads were too dangerous for it, but the little scribe still tried), and he had warned him that he might not be able to come again for some time.

"Balin has decided to attempt again to reclaim Khazad Dum, and I'm going with him. It will be like before, like our adventure."

"I thought you said you'd had enough adventures already," Bilbo had protested, worry creeping into him. He had heard many tales about the Moria, and it was the last place in Middle-Earth where he would have wanted to see Ori go.

"I thought so. But think about it, if Khazad Dum becomes ours again, it will be so easy to cross the Misty Mountains, just a few days underground and you're safely on the other side! I'll be able to come and see you whenever I want."

"So that's your plan, then?"

"It's not just for me," Ori had assured him. "Many dwarves of Erebor still have kin in Ered Luin. I'm doing this for them as well as for us, love."

"Who is going? From the Company, who is going?"

"Balin, Oin, and me of course. But we'll have many warriors! Don't worry. It will be fine. You've got to trust me. If you won't trust me, who will?"

It was an old thing between them, something they threw at each other when they felt they needed to be trusted with something stupid or dangerous. Bilbo had used that line often enough, but he had suddenly hated it, and had sworn he'd never again say it. Not when it might take Ori away from him for good.

They had argued a lot, the entire time Ori had been there, but never about the Moria. Bilbo had not dared talk about it again. If they did not talk of it again, he could pretend that it did not exist.

They shared their last kiss on his front door, and Bilbo had done his best to memorize everything about his lover. His skin, his smell, the way he smiled, the texture of his hair, of his beard, the sound of his voice.

"I'll be back before you know it," Ori had said, trying to sound confident and merry. "And until then, I'll write to you as often as I can!"

But he never had.

* * *

 

"I knew you were quite close to him," Gimli said, looking embarrassed. "He spoke of you often. You were a very important friend of his, and we all thought you did him a great deal of good."

Bilbo did not answer, staring at the stained book, at his lover's writing, still as precise and beautiful as ever.

"I am very sorry for your loss," Gimli insisted. "I really am."


	6. Wearing each other's clothes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> takes place in the happy land of Nobody Died. Not that you can tell here. But still.

“I look ridiculous like this,” Bilbo complained. “I'm sure I look like a child to you.”

“Oh, you don't, trust me. I've never wanted to do to a child what I want to do to _you_ now.”

“Well, it's still too big.”

“Not that much. We are about the same size, you know. I'm a bit wider, that's all. But that doesn't matter. Do you like it?”

“I do, actually,” Bilbo said, looking at his reflection in the mirror. Ori had convinced him to wear one of his tunics, a silky thing of beauty, a dark shade of purple embroidered with gold that always made the dwarf look absolutely _delicious_.

It did not fit Bilbo as well of course. Same size or not, their body shape was different. Ori had a longer torso and shorter legs, larger shoulders and a less prominent stomach. But it was a beautiful tunic nonetheless, and it would have looked good on an orc.

“I'll have one commissioned for you,” Ori said, running his hands over the fabric. “Maybe in red? It's more your colour I think.”

“We'll clash if I were red while you wear purple,” the hobbit protested. “We won't be able to go anywhere if our colours don't match!”

“Who said anything about going anywhere?” the dwarf chuckled, nuzzling his lover's neck. “I'd keep you here, all to myself. Can't let any dwarf see you dressed like that. They'd all want you. Mahal knows you draw enough attention as it is. I'll have to fight with Bofur if he so much as catch a glimpse of you like this, and we all know who would win.”

“Yes. You. Your brother might have been the strongest dwarf of Ered Luin, but we both know you're not far behind. Ah, well. You may commission anything you want for me, but on one condition.”

“And what would that be?” Ori asked distractedly, his fingers moving to unbutton the tunic.

“If you get me dressed like a dwarf, I'll want you dressed like a hobbit.”

“Hm... now _that's_ a nice idea, I must say. I'll have to ask Dori if he knows a good tailor.”


	7. In disguise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of trouble with that one. I did two modern AUs (in the first one they went to a convention as Castiel and Dean, in the second one as Homestuck characters) a very badly written thing where they'd disguised themselves as Thorin and Thranduil (I had just woken up, in my defense) and then, eventually, this  
> I'm really not convinced by it, but it's the best I could manage D:

**Cosplaying**

The company was moving to the South. They were merchants, most of them, as well as one or two warriors, and a scholar travelling to Minas Tirith with his young assistant, in search of precious books to buy and trade, hopping to be allowed to copy some rare documents, if the steward would allow it.

They kept to themselves mostly. The boy was near mute, and so young that he did not have a full beard yet, so the company often ignored him. His master was a good deal more popular, if only because he had a pretty face, and a kind personality, though he rarely talked if he could avoid it and preferred his books to other dwarves.

There was a good deal of talk in the company about the scholar's relation to his apprentice. There was no absolute certainty that the older dwarf used the younger one as a bed companion, but it was clear there was intimacy between them. It was in the way the old one would share his food and worry if his apprentice was comfortable in his boots (they seemed to hurt him a lot, though he rarely complained aloud). In return, the young one mended his elder's clothes whenever needed, and made sure there wouldn't be any rocks under his bedroll.

They were sweet, the two of them. The company liked them, though they all agreed they didn't have their place on such a difficult and dangerous travel. There was an unspoken agreement that, should they be attacked, they would all try their best to defend these two soft little things.

Until they were actually attacked.

They all knew that the scholar had a war-hammer. And they had maybe once of twice been impressed that he actually managed to lift it without too much problems. But they all assumed that he couldn't actually use the thing.

They had assumed wrongly.

They had thought the scholar pretty before. But as he was killing orc after orc with a hammer almost as tall as he was, the little one was beautiful, deadly so. And his apprentice, small and skinny and beardless, was no less lethal.

The rest of the trip was spent still wondering if the scholar and his apprentice were lovers, but that was because if they were not, they would get a few offers. But by the time they arrived in Minas Tirith, no one was sure of what the exact situation was, and they dared not risk angering people who could kill an orc as easily as they sharpened a pencil.

One of the warriors protecting the company _had_ tried to approach the oldest dwarf, suggesting that he might want to spend time with someone strong and mature, for a change. The scholar had politely declined, while his apprentice glared at the warrior.

The next morning, said warrior had a black eye, and for days he could barely sleep, muttering something about swords in the night to anyone who asked any questions.

Scholars weren't what they used to be.


	8. shopping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of "wearing each other's clothes", with small bits of vague plot?

When Ori had said that he would get Bilbo a dwarven tunic of his own, the hobbit had thought his young lover had been joking. It had been something said in the heat of the moment, and that moment had certainly been heated enough. Apparently, Ori _liked_ to see him in his clothes (not that it was something new. Bilbo didn't borrow his cardigans _just_ because they were comfortable after all)

But less than a month later, Ori had announced that they were going to Dale for a few days.

“It's a surprise,” he had explained, blushing and grinning shyly. “One I'm sure that you'll like. Well, I hope you'll like it?”

“If it's from you, I'm sure to love it.”

* * *

 

Trips to Dale were never as frequent as they would have wished, but always very welcome. Bilbo never complained about living in Erebor, but even their small house and its huge windows were not always enough for him. He was a hobbit after all, and as such, he enjoyed open spaces, the feel of grass under his feet, and having nothing by the endless sky above his head. Ori accepted it, even if he did not always understand it, and he tried to find frequent excuse for them to leave Erebor.

That was why this little trip hadn't particularly surprised Bilbo, at first. Ori had planned for them to stay at a nice little inn that they knew well and where they had their habits. The young woman who tended it knew them well, and liked to flirt playfully with them, under the amused eyes of her dwarf husband. That was why they liked the place so much, of course. Interspecies relationship were rare enough, and knowing they would not face any disobliging comments for a little while was always a relief.

Not that it happened very often, of course. The perks of being the King's counsellor and the Head of the Royal Library. People disapproved, but they did not dare to say anything to their faces (and if they were smart, they said nothing behind their back either. The members of the Company were not kind if they heard any insults against them, and Nori was a rather protective brother with an army of dwarves of suspicious talents at his orders). But still, once in a while, someone would say something, and neither of them replied but Ori would have that hurt look in his young brown eyes, and Bilbo would once again wonder if it was fair of him to have dragged his young lover into this. It meant days of horrible angst, until someone (usually Bofur or Nori, but also on one or two occasions Dori or Thorin) reminded them that all their friends were very happy for them, and the two of them were happy with each other, and that nothing else mattered.

Still, it was nice to be around Tilda and her husband, and to be reminded that they were not alone.

Usually, after arriving in Dale, Bilbo and Ori would spend most of their first day inside the inn, chatting and exchanging stories with Tilda. She was a clever woman, and her husband, when he joined in, had a dry sense of humour that amused them a lot.

But that time, Ori had other plans. Bilbo had barely enough time to say hello before he was dragged outside and into the streets of Dale.

“I take it we are in a hurry?”

“Worse than that, we're late,” Ori grumbled. “We were supposed to arrive this morning! I just hope she won't be too angry... She's got a _dreadful_ character, according to Dori, and coming from him that's something.”

“We're meeting someone, then?”

“Of course we are. She's... ah, that's the shop!”

Bilbo looked at the shop window in surprise.

“But... that's a tailor, isn't it? Why are we here? The ones in Erebor are...”

“Not nearly good enough for what we need,” Ori assured him. “Dwarves have many qualities, but they're not all that good with clothes. We need a human for a work like that.”

“And what sort of work would that be exactly?” Bilbo asked, amused by the air of mystery his lover was trying to give to the whole thing.

Ori only winked in answer, and pushed him inside. They were welcomed by a huge woman with long dark hair and a dress fit for a princess, though Bilbo suspected it was more practical than it seemed. But welcome was not the word, of course. The woman had glared at them when they had come in, and before they could introduce themselves, she had accused them of being _late_ , using a tone that signified clearly that it was a major crime.

“We had some problems with a pony,” Bilbo tried to explain. “We feared it was sick, and...”

“I don't care. Get naked. Now.”

“ _Excuse me?_ ”

“I need your measurements. Your husband wasn't able to give them, so I'll need to make a few adjustments. Undress. Now.”

Bilbo thought of protesting. He was a Baggins, of Bag-End (hadn't set a foot there in _years_ , but still) and he was _not_ to be treated that way. A single glare from the woman quickly convinced that, in the end, his pride wasn't such a big deal. He started removing his jacket, but the tailor laughed.

“Not _here_! Anyone passing in the street will see you! There's a room in the back, go there and I'll join you in a minute. I've got a thing or two to see with your husband first.”

The hobbit blushed, and all but ran to the other room, closing the door behind him. As he undressed, he thought that he would have to correct the woman. Ori and him were not married. Yet. And they might never be. Dwarvish courting was a long and complex process, and being of a different race, Bilbo wasn't sure he was really allowed to do that, not even with a king as his friend. He'd still have to try, someday. Trying was the least that Ori deserved. And if dwarves didn't approve, they could always elope to the Shire, marry there (Gandalf could act as their witness, there were some very old ceremonies that might work even for two males) and come back after. He'd have to propose. Soon.

By the time he was in his underwear, the tailor joined him. She looked at him all over, and frowned.

“You're not at all shaped like I expected, mister Baggins. It will require some works to make everything fit the right way, but I like challenges. And, but first, the blindfold, if you don't mind.”

“The _what_?”

“Orders from your dwarf, I'm afraid. Now, if you would be so kind...”

Bilbo grumbled, but eventually obeyed. If Ori wanted to surprise him, then surprised he'd have to be.

* * *

 

It took several hours for the tailor to be done with whatever it was she was doing. Bilbo was allowed a break or two, to eat and drink and relieve himself, but he was forbidden to remove his blindfold or to talk to Ori.

“It would ruin the surprise,” the tailor explained. “He said he didn't want to be allowed to see you until it was finished. He's a sweet little one, really. Never seen such a cute dwarf in my life, he's simply adorable.”

 _You should see him kill orcs and goblins,_ Bilbo thought with a smirk. Ori wasn't quite so _adorable_ when in a fight, though he was still very much _attractive_.

At last, after what felt days and days of standing still and dressed and undressed and dressed again, Bilbo was told that everything was finished, and that it was time for him to discover his surprise. The woman brought him back to the main room, and removed his blindfold.

Bilbo gasped.

The shop was dark now, its curtains closed, with only candles to bring some light. And, in the middle of these candles, stood Ori. But the young dwarf was no longer wearing his own clothes, and instead he had put on a white shirt above which was a purple waistcoat decorated with gold, and blue cotton trousers that stopped mid-calf to reveal naked legs and feet.

Ori was dressed as a hobbit, and Bilbo had never wanted him more in all the years he had known him.

The feeling must have been mutual, because the dwarf looked at him the way Thorin used to look at his Arkenstone.

“I am never letting you go out in public like this,” Ori whispered, voice hoarse with desire. “Not _ever_.”

Bilbo looked down at himself, and discovered that he was dressed in a red tunic with gold embroidery at the hems, as well as dark dwarvish trousers and a long sleeveless coat of brown leather.

“Oh. That's. _Nice_.”

Which wasn't the most eloquent he'd ever been, but he felt allowed to be speechless, with the way Ori looked at him, and how the hobbit clothes made his dwarf so impossibly attractive. It was going to be hell, walking back to the inn. He wasn't sure they'd even make it that far.

“You like your surprise, then?” Ori asked, licking his lips.

“That's one way of saying it, yes. I don't think I've ever liked anything something so much in my life.”

The sound of someone clearing their throat suddenly brought them back to reality, and turning to the tailor they remembered with no little embarrassment that they were not alone.

“No shagging in my shop, thank you. Glad you like my work, really, but if you want to remove that, you'll do it somewhere else.”

They both blushed, and apologized profusely, and then ran back to the inn to make good use of their brand new outfit by getting them out of the way.


	9. Hanging out with friends

“For someone who only had a couple hours of sleep, ye seem terribly cheerful this afternoon, Ori.”

“That's because I am, master Bofur. It looks like we're having a fine day, sunny and warm, and I don't know what more I could ask for.”

“How about a proper bed and some lunch?” Bilbo grumbled next to him. “I haven't had any food since the other night in the cave, and I'm starving.”

“And ye'll stay starving,” Bofur sighed. “I'm 'fraid the only thing we saved from the goblins were the weapons. So unless ye wanna go back and ask 'em for a bite...”

The hobbit groaned tragically at that, making them all laugh, but he complained no further, and instead got up to see if he could help with something. Ori watched him go, a fond smile on his lips. Their burglar certainly had changed since the day they had first met him. For all that he was still softer than a dwarf, there was a harder edge to him now. Ori rather liked that, if only because Bilbo looked a lot more confident now. With him as he was now, it would be hard to improvise a party in his house without his permission.

“Ye look like an elf gazing at the stars,” Bofur teased. “If ye're not more careful, he'll end up noticing.”

“Oh, he already knows, actually. He's fine with it. More than fine, really.”

“Is he? Thought I had seen ye two snogging last night, when we were all looking at Thorin's mountain. Should I congratulate you already, or are ye keeping it secret for now? Dori might not be too happy with it, I s'ppose.”

“Oh, he's a grumpy old thing, but he won't mind,” Ori assured him with a confidence he didn't really feel. “He quite likes Bilbo, because he's nice and proper and polite. And Nori won't care as long as I'm happy.”

“Then I hope ye'll be, laddie.”

* * *

 

They started going down the Carrock soon after that, a difficult task when you were tired and with an empty stomach. Once or twice Ori stumbled, on to be caught by Bilbo, but the opposite happened too, and it time it made them both smile foolishly.

They did not walk for long that day, stopping early so that they might try to hunt for food. Ori managed to get a rabbit with his slingshot, while Kili did the same with his bow. That was already nice enough, starving as they were, but Bilbo surprised them all by bringing not just berries, but also a plump little squirrel.

“Where did you find it?” Gloin asked suspiciously.

“Find it! I did not _find_ it, master dwarf, I _killed_ it. I'm afraid there were two more with it, but I missed them. It's been nearly twenty years since I've gone after squirrels, so I'm a bit out of practice.”

“Avoiding goblins, killing orcs, and now hunting squirrels!” Dwalin laughed. “Ye're a hobbit of many talents, master Baggins!”

“Thank you, master Dwalin. I'm afraid I'll require some help to skin and prepare it though. I've never done it. My mother would do that, and my father loved to cook them.”

“Pity the hunter who can't prepare his prey!” Bombur said with a large smile. “But fear not, I'll be cooking you little fellow with the rabbits. You go sit with Ori, you have done your part of work for tonight!”

Bilbo blushed, but there was a pleased smile on his face when he joined Ori, just a short way away from the fire. It was the closest thing to privacy they could hope to have at the moment, and the young dwarf did not even dare to touch the hobbit for fear of attracting attention. He was fairly sure that the entire company already knew (Bofur was a nice one, he really was, but he _did_ like to gossip) but that was no reason to make it obvious, because then Dori and Nori could no longer pretend they didn't know, and Ori wasn't anxious to be having that conversation.

“You're awfully quite tonight,” Bilbo said. “Not having second thoughts, are you?”

“If anyone might be having them, it's you. I have known what I want for weeks now. But no, I was just... thinking. How did you kill that squirrel? That was rather impressive.”

“You mean it was _awesome_!” Kili exclaimed, sitting (falling, really) on the floor next to them. “You didn't even have anything with you, how did you do that?”

“A good stone in good hands can do a lot, my young prince. I'll teach you some day, if we ever have a few moments of calm.”

“Can't you teach me now? We're not doing anything!”

“It's getting dark, it would be a little difficult. And I am tired, you know. I've had a long couple of days, and I'd like some quiet, If that's not too much to ask.”

“But it's going to be an hour or more until food is ready!” the young prince whined. “Quiet is boring! What are you going to do, sit here next to Ori and do _nothing at all_?”

“They can't really do anything with you sitting with them!” Fili cried from over the fire. “Leave the love-birds alone, Kee, they don't need a chaperon!”

That brought many laughs from the company, and though Ori felt mortified, he noticed that there was nothing cruel in their merriment, not the way there used to be to first few weeks, when they all made fun of Bilbo every occasion they had. Now it felt more like a bit of fun between friends, and indeed the hobbit was replying something about the subtlety of Fili and Kili that had everyone just as amused.

Ori smiled, and brushed his fingers against Bilbo's hand.

They were cold and tired and hungry, but he felt happier than he had ever been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bit about killing squirrels with stones is canon guys :D It's mentionned in the book that as a youth, Bilbo was a true terror and birds and squirrels feared him terribly.  
> And yeah, I suppose I'm cheating a bit with the theme (what's new there, really) but I just liked the idea that the dwarves are, finally, warming up to Bilbo after the Misty Mountains (they do in the books, sort of) and I wanted to write about that.


	10. Jealousy

Ori never said anything. There was nothing to be said. He _trusted_ Bilbo, and knew his lover would never betray him. The hobbit liked him, he had said so, more than once, and he was too honest to do him wrong.

But Bilbo still looked at Thorin.

Everyone looked at Thorin, of course. There was something about him that made you want to follow him to the end of the Earth, even when you knew it was a bad idea.

But Bilbo had a special way of looking at the crownless king, as if he were something precious and dangerous all at once, something to be observed and studied and cared for. And that was the worst, perhaps, the way Bilbo seemed to want to protect the king.

Ori could have dealt with admiration, even with lust if it had come to that, but protectiveness? It felt worse than anything.

It showed just how much the hobbit cared for Thorin, how much he wanted to keep him alive. The _risks_ Bilbo had taken for the king, the things he had done to prove himself to him, the way he smiled whenever Thorin approved of his deeds… It made Ori’s heart ache.

It wasn’t jealousy, he repeated himself. And he would never do anything to try and stop Bilbo from doing anything for Thorin, because he wasn’t jealous. And if he was angry at the king sometimes, it was because of his bad decisions, not because of the way he’d sometimes smile at Bilbo or pat his back. And if he held the hobbit so tight some nights, it was because any form of intimacy was precious when you were in such a large group and couldn’t get any time alone, not because Bilbo had laughed with Thorin at dinner and sung for him.

It wasn’t jealousy.

But it hurt all the same.


	11. Family Scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frodo was 21 one when he was adopted by Bilbo, which I’m assuming makes him a young teen for a hobbit, so 13-ish? And I’m going with a book timeline here, because with the movie time line, Ori died around the time Frodo was born D:

Ori had protested. He was _not_ the right person to keep an eye on Frodo. He didn’t know what to do with him when they were alone for five minutes, so a whole two days? It was madness, and he couldn’t do it.

“Look, there’s no one else I can ask,” Bilbo explained for the third time. “And it’ll be good. It will give you some… bonding time. He’s here for good now that I’ve adopted him, and if we want to be a family, everyone has to make an effort.”

Ori rolled in eyes in annoyance, and Bilbo gave him a light slap on the shoulder, accompanied by a worried look.

“We _are_ a family, precious, even if he doesn’t know it yet! And I’ll tell him, I will, but I want him to like you before I have to tell him that you are my husband rather than an old friend.”

“And if he never likes me?” Ori grumbled, avoiding the hobbit’s eyes. He loved Bilbo, and he knew Bilbo loved him back, but for hobbits just like for dwarves, family came before lovers. “I think he hates me, you know. He never talks to me, and he always look at me as if I were some sort of queer monster!”

“Don’t be silly, Ori. How could he not like you? He just needs some time, and time is precisely what you’ll have while I take care of that thing.”

“But…”

“Please?” Bilbo insisted, taking his husband’s hands. “Do this for me? I’ll make it up to you, love. I know we haven’t had much time together lately, but I’ll figure out something and I’ll make sure you know how _grateful_ I am that you helped me.”

Ori rolled his eyes again. “It’s not fair to ask me like that, and you know it.”

“You’ll do it, then?”

” ‘Course I’ll do it. Not like I can refuse you anything, can I?”

* * *

 

He still regretted it when, after Bilbo bade them goodbye on a fine summer morning, he found himself alone with Frodo. It was the most awkward thing he could think of. He didn’t know how to start a conversation, nor if he should start it at all. The young hobbit was what they called a tween, and that was always a difficult age for their kind. Ori remembered well the decades following his fiftieth birthday, and he knew at the time the idea of an adult trying to be friendly with him always annoyed him more than anything.

“Will you… want anything special for lunch?” Ori asked tentatively. “I’m not as good a cook as Bilbo, but I’m sure I can…”

“I know you’re _shagging_ him,” Frodo said, looking straight at him, a hint of anger in his voice.

Ori gaped at him and blushed.”Excuse me, I’m _what_?”

“Shagging my uncle. Buggering him. Fucking him. I know. _Everyone_ knows. You’re not even _trying_ to hide it.”

The dwarf felt his blood turn to ice. This was not at all a good start to his two days with Frodo. Bilbo was supposed to be the one handling this conversation. This was _his_ nephew, after all. And honestly, Ori felt a little angry at Frodo for starting this discussion with _him_ , and at _this_ moment. Considering how often he went on walks with Bilbo, he’d had plenty of occasions to talk about that.

He tried to think of what Dori would do in such a moment. Deny everything, probably. Which would only be insulting the boy’s intelligence and observation skills. So he tried to imagine what Nori would do. And that might be more efficient.

“If that’s a problem I’m willing to talk about it, but I don’t think I’ll be stopping any time soon,” the dwarf said, trying to sound calm and confident. “I happen to _love_ him.”

“He loves you too,” Frodo replied solemnly with a nod. “He looks at you like you’re a pretty flower or something. Are you two going to marry?”

“Already done,” Ori explained, showing his weeding pearl. “I take it you don’t have… objections then?”

“No. Why would I? You’re nice, for a dwarf, and you make him smile a lot, so that’s good. I just don’t know why you don’t want to tell me? I get that it’s supposed to be a secret, but I thought Bilbo trusted me, even if _you_ don’t.”

There was a hint of pain in his voice, and Ori could only imagine too well what the boy must have felt. He’d had enough relatives keeping obvious secrets from him to know what it was like to think they believed you untrustworthy. And that was not something he could inflict on anyone, not after how much it had hurt him.

“It’s not that we don’t trust you,” he explained. “Bilbo was just very worried that you might no longer like him if you knew he… well, if you knew we were married. But you are a lot more open-minded than either of us thought, and for this I thank you. It means a lot that you are… accepting of us.”

Frodo grinned at that.

“Fish and chips. For lunch; That’s what I’ll want. And there’s strawberries in the garden, so we can have them for dessert.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll go buy some fish then, I leave you to take care of the strawberries.”

“I’d rather come with you, uncle Ori. The fishmonger has a thing against dwarves, he’ll try to rip you off, but he was friends with my dad, so he’ll probably make me a price.”

“Let’s do that, then,” Ori replied with a large smile.


	12. Making out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, I officially suck at doing anything even slightly sexy D:  
> I feel like I've fucked up a bit with the lastest themes. Guess I'm a bit tired? I'll try to do better with the next ones

If there was anything in the world nicer than enjoying a nice, large breakfast after days of nothing, then Bilbo did not know what it was. It was no bacon and eggs, but Beorn's honey cakes and cream were delicious. Having a proper bed once again had been appreciated too, though he could have done without waking up with a dwarf half atop of him. Or at least, not that specific dwarf. Bofur was very nice, but his face was not something Bilbo wanted to see first thing in the morning.

Still, it looked like the beginning of a fine day, and when Ori came to sit by him, it only became finer. Bilbo smiled at him, and brushed his fingers against the young dwarf's hand.

“Slept well, my boy?”

The young dwarf nodded silently, and slipped an arm around the hobbit's waist before kissing him on the cheek. Bilbo's eyebrows rose in surprise, and he quickly looked around. They were not exactly keeping their new relation a secret as such, but Dori and Nori were pretending not to know at the moment, and he'd rather keep it that way for a while. But thankfully, the house was almost entirely empty, save for Bofur who was finishing eating while Bifur kept him company and chatted with him.

Bilbo relaxed, and kissed Ori's temple.

“You seem in a good mood again, my boy.”

“I am. This place is so nice! There are such beautiful flowers outside, I had never seen anything like them before, not even in books! I think I'll try to draw them. Would you... like to keep me company?”

“Of course. It's always a pleasure to watch you draw.”

They went out a few minutes later, and Ori took the hobbit a little way from the house, just far enough that the others might not see them easily. For a while the young dwarf sketched the flowers and Bilbo laid in the grass, enjoying the warm sun and the soft summer breeze. When Ori felt satisfied with his work, he put his notebook back in his bag and laid down by Bilbo's side.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked shyly, raising himself on his elbow.

Bilbo chuckled. “Of course you can. That's the point of this whole thing, isn't it?”

Ori grinned, and lowered his head until their lips touched. It was entirely different from the few kisses Bilbo had shared with hobbits in his youth. The moustache, small as it was, felt strange against his skin, but that strangeness was entirely welcome, a proof that his young partner was not a hobbit at all. The same reason made him appreciate the boy's large hand cupping his jaw, and the coarse texture of a beard under his own fingers. That was an entirely new sensation, and one he decided he liked.

Just as new was the sensation of a warm tongue licking at his lips, and he opened his mouth to let out a soft moan, allowing Ori's tongue to slip inside. It felt weird at first, but the hobbit quickly got used to it, and tried his best to copy the dwarf's movements.

They stayed like that a moment, kissing until they were breathless. Ori then left the hobbit's mouth to nip at his neck, occasionally sucking a small mark where his shirt would hide it.

“You're quite good at this,” Bilbo mumbled, letting his hands run against the dwarf's back. At some point, Ori had moved on top of him. Bilbo saw nothing to complain about in that. “I have to say I didn't expect it.”

“No one really expects it,” Ori laughed, pecking at his lips. “It's not very dwarvish of me, but I enjoy these sort of things. Don't you?”

“I had never really tried it, to be honest. But I think I quite like it. As I've said, you're _good_ at this.”

“You mean you've never...”

“No,” Bilbo answered a little too quickly. “It's not... done, in the Shire. Not between two men at least, and I never really had an interest in... girls. So I'm counting on you to... show me what I've been missing?”

Ori had looked almost sad to learn that the hobbit had never been close in such a way to anyone before, but the offer to show him brought back the young scholar's smile.

“I'll do my best to teach you, mister Baggins,” he said, kissing the hobbit again, “and since practice is the best way to leanr,” another kiss, “we'll have to practice a lot.”

“Not going to complain about that, my boy.”


	13. Eating Ice-cream

It was the hottest summer day that Bilbo had ever known, and he had spent most of it working outside, in the small garden he had on the side of the mountain. Not the wisest of decisions, all things considered, but the peaches were coming to maturity and so were his tomatoes and a few others things. Danger was all around. The ravens were friends of the dwarves, they were enemies of his garden.

When he finally came home, all his fruits and vegetables in a basket, the poor hobbit was drenched in sweat and feeling like his might pass out from the heat. He quickly left his harvest on the kitchen table, and without bothering to greet Ori who was sitting there, eating something, he started removing his clothes.

“Bit early in the day to undress, isn't it?” the dwarf teased. “Not that I'm complaining.”

“Not doing it for you,” Bilbo grumbled, now in his underwears. “It's just so hot out there, how can you stand it?”

“By not going outside at all? It's perfectly nice inside the mountain. The Southern side was a bit warm of course, and I still don't get why the put the library there because these changes in temperature are dreadful for the books, but it was nothing dramatic.”

“Well, lucky you. I'm _melting_. Is summer always like that here?”

“You'll have to ask Balin or Dori,” Ori said, taking another spoonful of the white and red thing in his bowl. “I don't exactly know Erebor much better than you do, and it's my first summer here too.”

“But you've read books about it, so I'm sure you... what even is that thing you're eating? If rocks weren't melting outside I'd say it's snow, but...”

“Oh, it is. We stored it away this winter. Balin's idea. Come to think of it, if that's the first thing he had in mind when it started snowing, it probably means summer is always like this here.”

Bilbo frowned, starring at the snow topped with... strawberry juice, most likely. Ori chuckled.

“Want a taste?”

“If you don't mind, yes. It looks rather nice.”

“It is. Too nice to be given away like that, in fact. How about a trade? A kiss for a spoonful, does that seem fair to you?”

“You spend too much time with Nori, that's how it seems to me. But what can a poor hobbit do against a strong dwarf? I shall have to sell my body away for a tiny bite of snow, then, unless you find it in your heart to pity a poor halfling suffering from the heat?”

“A kiss or you get nothing,” Ori laughed. “You've all but abandoned me lately, always in your garden during the day, and at nights you're too tired to even speak to me. It pains me to have come to such extremes, but since food is the only thing you want from me anymore... Kiss me and you can have some.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes, but kissed the dwarf before stealing the bowl from him.

“That's not the agreement!” Ori protested, grinning widely.

“Don't worry my boy, I'll make it up to you later. But this thing is delicious. I'm quite cross you didn't tell me about it earlier.”

“I am ever so sorry. How about you finish this, get dressed again, and we go get some more?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the most pointlessly fluffy thing I've ever written. It was fun. I like pointless, and considering the huge amount of potential angst I'm starting to realize about this ship, fluffy can't hurt.
> 
> No but seriously. No matter how you do it. Ori/Bilbo can never end well D: (unless you work with a modern Au)


	14. Genderswap

Bella stared.

It wasn't right, she knew that. Staring was rude.

But Ori had breasts. She felt that hiding that fact from her for all these weeks had been quite rude too, and that she was allowed to be less than polite.

“You have breasts,” Bella pointed out. It was stupid, and obvious. But at the moment she didn't trust herself with anything but the obvious.

And the whole thing had been so silly, really. Little Ori had been so nice and kind from the start, and maybe, just maybe, she had allowed herself to flirt a little with the young dwarf. Nothing much, and it barely counted as flirting at all, to be honest: just talks of elvish poetry and a few jokes here and there, and one teasing offer to braid Ori's beard that had left the young one red as a poppy. It had all been very innocent, really.

Until they had arrived at Rivendell, and the elves had mentioned baths and Bella had all but groaned at the thought. A bath. Hot. Water. Being clean again. Oh, that was true happiness, that really was. And Lindir had shown her a bathroom just for her too, no more waiting for the dwarves to be finished and then having to be quick because they didn't want to wait for her. Just her, a huge bath where the entire company could have had room to spare, and... scented salts? Oh, _bless_ the elves.

But then, as she had just gone into the scorching water, Ori had come in the bathroom.

“Mind if I join you?” the young dwarf had asked with a small smile.

Bella had blushed. “I'm not sure your brothers would approve of this, child!”

“Oh, they don't mind. Better with you than with Fili or Kili, really. Oh! Are those scented salts? How nice!”

And then, just like that, Ori had started undressing. Bella had quickly averted her eyes. She had never felt more uncomfortable in her entire life. She had been friendly to the company's scribe, she knew that, and perhaps more friendly than she should have been (it had just been so hard to resist, the young one was so _adorable_ with a blush) but she still felt it was a bit early to be bathing together. She ought to say something, she knew it, and she turned again toward Ori to explain that quite a few things needed to be discussed before they could think of enjoying any naked time together.

Which was when she had seen the dwarf's chest. And while there was not much to see, there was still more than Bella expected.

And that was when she had pointed out the obvious. Ori had looked confused at that.

“Of course I got breasts. What's the point of being a girl if you don't have them?”

“But since when are you even a girl?”

“Well, we're not too sure yet, but there's a few medics who says it's all decided a couples weeks after the start of pregnancy, so I'd say since then. Oh! You mean you thought I was a boy?”

“You've got a _beard_ , child,” Bella replied. She winced. It was never nice to point out one's little defects, but really Ori ought to have noticed that, and to have done something about it.

“Course I got a beard,” Ori said, stepping into the water. “And I'm told it's a very pretty one too. Kili sure likes it, but I'm not letting that idiot anywhere near it. Wandering hands that one, though he's nice enough otherwise. And you offered to braid it for me, didn't you?” She blushed a little then, more than the heat of the water called for. “I'm fine with that, by the way. I like you a whole lot, to be honest.”

“I like you too, my b... my girl, but you're... well, when I said that, I thought...”

“Oh. You _really_ thought I was a boy then?”

Ori looked utterly crestfallen at the idea, and Bella felt sorry for her. It couldn't be nice, learning something like that. But it was the truth of it, the hobbit had thought she was flirting with a young boy, and _that_ had already been improper, but flirting with a young _girl_? That was _scandalous_.

And more than a little tempting.

Bella had had a few lovers in the past, male, all of them (it was the only option available in the Shire, really) and what little fun she'd had with them had never quite convinced her to look for something steady. Men were nice enough, and she loved having them as friends, but take them to bed and they became dull as a brick.

“Do dwarf ladies often proposition one another in... in such a way?” she asked, hoping she sounded neither judgemental (she didn't) not eager (she did).

“Well, not often, 'cause there's not many of course, but you just take to bed who you want to take, you know? And I don't really like boys, 'cause their bits look so stupid and they all think of nothing but to fight and make armours and stupid things like that, when girls talk of nicer things like crafting weapons and locks and girly things like that.”

“You... have been with other women, then?” Bella insisted. She definitely sounded eager now. She didn't really care. A whole world of possibilities was appearing in front of her, and she had never regretted less her idea to run away with a bunch of dwarves.

“Gosh, course I have!” Ori replied, sounding almost offended that anyone could think otherwise. “I'm seventy five, and I've been adult and all for a couple years, and I've travelled a lot, so I've, you know, experimented! People always think that 'cause I'm young, I don't know a thing. Well, I do. And, look, I'm sorry we didn't understand each other, and I won't say a thing again, I swear. Just, can we be friend? I really like you, and it's not just 'bout getting you in bed, and I'd be sad if you were cross with me.”

Bella laughed. “Oh, I'm not cross at all, my girl. On the contrary.” She took a few step toward ori, and the dwarf's eyebrows rose. “I'm very, very interested in all that experience you have. And seeing as I'm travelling too, and I've been an adult for a few years, I'm thinking maybe you'll be willing to share some of your knowledge with me?”

Ori blushed deeply, but nodded, and Bella smirked.

This little adventure had just become a lot more interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> experience!Ori/inexperienced!anyone is my favourite thing ever, don't judge me.  
> And not too happy with how I wrote Bilbo in this one but blargh.  
> Blargh is a valid argument I swear.


	15. As old people

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANGST.  
> Seriously.  
> There are unfortunate implications about that ship that we all want to forget.

It broke Ori’s heart with each new day, but he said nothing and did his best to hide it.

He had always known, of course. Hobbits didn’t live as long as dwarves, _everyone_ knew this. And Bilbo had already been a middle-aged hobbit when they had become involved, while Ori himself had still been barely an adult. He had known all along that some day, Bilbo would be old, and _he_ wouldn’t.

Knowing didn’t make it any less painful.

Seeing his lover decay in what had felt like the blink of an eye had been a terrible experience. One day Bilbo had been this queer little hobbit who laughed with him and dragged him for long walks all around the mountain, and the next, his hearing was worse than Oin’s, and he couldn’t be standing for more than a few minutes before getting exhausted.

At first Bilbo had laughed about it, sometimes. Ori never laughed back. The hobbit would say he’d have to find someone again, if only because he was a terrible cook, and when Ori said he could always move in with Dori, Bilbo would say it was a terrible choice because his eldest brother was even worse than him in a kitchen. He’d insist then, even going so far as to name this or that nice dwarf that he knew. It was meant as a joke. Ori didn’t find it funny.

“Everyone is a bad cook compared to you,” he whispered one night as they laid in bed. “You’ve spoiled me, I’ll never appreciated anyone else’s food now.”

After that, the jokes had stopped. Somehow, it made everything worse. Ori wanted to hear his lover tease him and laugh again, he wanted to see him smile and kiss him until they were both breathless.

That part hurt terribly. Ori wanted Bilbo as much as ever, old and wrinkled as he was, because he could have turned into an orc and the dwarf would still have _wanted_ him, but that need was no longer returned. Bilbo tried, sometimes, for his sake. And that, too, made everything worse. So Ori stopped sleeping in their bed.

He still spent most of his days with his husband, though, trying to entertain him as well as he could. Bilbo had given up on working long ago, and he had grown too tired to do anything at all. Ori read him poetry, or told him the latest gossips of Erebor. He stopped doing that the day he realized most of the names no longer meant anything to him. Ori and Thorin were the only ones he still recognized easily, and even that wasn’t garanteed.

It was almost a relief when, at last, Bilbo passed in his sleep, one cold autumn afternoon. He had been in pain for weeks, something bad growing in his stomach killing him slowly. It had been hell to see him suffer so much, and not be able to do anything about it, except give him drugs that made him too numb to feel anything. In a way, he had died long before his heart stopped beating. Ori hadn’t even been able to say goodbye, hadn’t been able to talk to him one last time and tell Bilbo he loved him.

He was 160 then. He was still young, and had half of his life left to live.

Half a life, and no one left to share it with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ori is a young dwarf, and Bilbo is a not so young hobbit, and I'm so sorry, really.  
> There's just no way for this ship to end well, because there'll always be one of them dying long before the other. Interspecies relationship can be sad, guys.


	16. During their morning ritual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please accept this offering of fluff as my apology for yesterday's angst.

” ‘m not getting up today,” Bilbo mumbled, his face buried in his pillow. “Tell Thorin ‘m sick.”

In the kitchen, Ori rolled his eyes, and cut a few slices of bread on which he put cream and some pepper.

“I’m serious, I’m staying in bed today!” Bilbo insisted, making the young dwarf chuckle. “Old bastard doesn’t need me anyway. Dis can take care of those problems with the farms better than me. So I’m staying in bed, and so are you.”

“Not sure Balin will be too happy with that,” Ori said, bringing the toasts and some tea on a tray. “I promised him today I’d finished translating that book of dwarven tales that we’re to send to Thranduil.”

“Oh, bugger him!”

“No a very appealing idea, but if you insist…”

Ori put the tray on their beside table, and Bilbo threw him a dark look. Sass was _not_ tolerated in the mornings, not before he’d had his first cup of tea at least, if even then.

“Come back in bed,” the hobbit insisted. “It’s going to be a terrible day. Who _cares_ about Thranduil and his birthday? Stay in here with me. It’s warm and comfy, and I promise I’m good company.”

Ori laughed, and bent down to kiss his lover’s forehead. Bilbo immediately threw his arms around the dwarf’s neck, trying to drag him back in bed. Ori almost allowed it for a moment, but eventually managed to break free.

“You’re not working tomorrow, and neither am I. We can stay in bed then, if you want. We can even stay there all day long, if it pleases you.”

“You make it sound like such a chore to you,” Bilbo grumbled, grabbing a toast. “You do, really! _If it pleases you_. Pah! I might start thinking it doesn’t please _you_.”

Ori sniggered. “You’re being ridiculous, love. I think I’ve more than demonstrated just how much I enjoy staying in bed with you.”

“And yet you refuse to indulge me,” Bilbo sighed dramatically, finishing his toast. “Worse even, you’re rushing to see Balin, just after admitting you don’t mind buggering him. I’m not a jealous hobbit, you know, but I might grow suspicious…”

“You’re stupid in the mornings, and I really have to go. How about we finish this conversation tonight, and I prove you just how little jealousy you should feel?”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Bilbo admitted. “Have a good day, precious.”

“And you too,” Ori replied, kissing him. “Don’t let Thorin drive you mad, and try not to kill him, if you can.”

“It shall be hard, but I’ll do my best.”

Ori grinned, but not before kissing him again.

Once he was alone, Bilbo took his time to finish his breakfast, and went to wash a little before getting dressed.

It looked like the beginning of another fine day.


	17. Spooning

This little adventure wasn’t so bad, in the end. Bilbo rather enjoyed it, for all that he complained about handkerchiefs and allergies. He had never been so far away from his home, not even when he was a young and foolish hobbit chasing after elves. It was all very nice. As long as the sun was shining.

At night, the cold was almost unbearable, for all that it was still summer. The hobbit wasn’t much used to sleeping outside, and though the weather was rather warm, he would always wake up in the middle of the night, his teeth chattering. He had a small blanket of course, lent to him by on of the dwarves (he wasn’t sure which one. It had been a week, but he still had trouble remembering all their names), but it did not compare with the soft warmth of his bed in Bag-End. 

The others did not seem to suffer much from it, and Bilbo dared not complain. They all thought him soft and useless already, there was no need to confirm their bad opinion of him.

But then, the rain started. Soft and refreshing and welcome at first, for it had been a hot couple of days. But the slight drizzle turned into a proper shower, and Bilbo felt like he would never be dry again. Suddenly, he did not like this adventure anymore, and he wished he were back at home with some cakes and a nice cup of hot tea. And _that_ was during the day.

That night was a nightmare. They found shelter in a small copse, but the trees could not entirely protect them from the falling rain, and Bilbo felt frozen to the bone. He was glad to hear some of the dwarves grumble a little, but nothing near the utter despair he felt at the idea that he would have to spend a night on the cold, wet ground protected only by an equally wet blanket. But there was nothing he could do about it, so he just sighed, and after a cold meal (the wood was too wet for a fire) he resigned himself to another cold night.

A couple hours later, he was still waiting for sleep to come. And he was the only one to have such trouble, too. The only ones still awake were Balin, who was keeping watch, and himself. Blasted dwarves and their capacity to sleep through everything! Blasted wizard who had brought these dwarves to him. And blasted himself, to have foolishly followed them, when he was so clearly not made for such life.

Somewhere in their camp, he heard someone move and get up. Bilbo thought at first one of the dwarves was going to relieve himself, but to his great surprise, one of them instead came to kneel next to him. Even in the dark, the hobbit had no difficulties recognizing Ori. He was the smallest of the company, barely taller than Bilbo himself, and he was always burried in layers of wool that the hobbit envied in the dead of night, when he felt so cold.

“Are you alright, mister Baggins?” the small dwarf asked, concern written all over his face. “I’ve noticed you didn’t seem to sleep very well. Is something troubling you?”

“Not troubling me as such, no. I just need to get used to… life outside, I suppose. You all seem to be doing well though, so I just need to be a little tougher.”

“It is rather cold at night in these parts,” Ori answered, his voice hesitant. “We do better, but we all have kin to keep us warm, and that helps a lot. But you have no one here.”

“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that, I must admit. But you always sleep with your brothers, and so do the others, don’t you?”

Ori nodded. He had started fidgeting the bottom of his scarf, and was biting his bottom lip.

“You know…” he started, but he looked away, and even in the dark Bilbo though he could see a blush.

“Yes, what should I know?” the hobbit tried to encourage him. “Come on, I won’t make fun of you, lad.”

“I could sleep with you, if that helped,” Ori blurted very quickly. “I- I mean, to share the heat and all? Because Dori snores anyway, and Nori kicks, but I know you don’t, and I’d like to help you? But if you don’t want then it’s fine, just, I wanted you to know it’s an option, and…”

Bilbo chuckled. “Calm down, my boy! I think I’ll take you up on that offer, actually. Come on, let’s lie down and try to sleep.”

The bright smile on the small dwarf’s face was one of utter surprise and delight, and jsut that was enough to make Bilbo feel a lot warmer. It took them a while to find a position that worked, but in the end they settled with both of them on their side, Ori’s front against Bilbo’s back, and the young dwarf’s arm curled around him, holding him close.

The hobbit rather wondered if that part was necessary, but he did not say anything. He was far too comfortable to think of moving again and it did not take him long to fall asleep. His last thought, before sleep took him, was that he hoped the dwarves would not make too much fun of them come morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ori with a crush is one of the cutest things ever and we all know it.  
> Ori with a crush and acting on it in a not very subtle way is a personnal favourite of mine.


	18. doing something together

“ _In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit._ _Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort. It_ … why are you laughing?”

Ori sniggered. “Not laughing, I swear. Keep reading, please.”

“Not until you’ve told me what is so funny.”

“Well, you’re writing a book for hobbits, is it really necessary to describe in such detail your house? I’m sure most people around here know what it’s like.”

Bilbo seemed to ponder the suggestion, and eventually shook his head. “No, it’s needed. I have to insist on how nice and comfortable it is, to make everyone feel just how dreadful that blasted quest was. I’ve got to show the readers how little reasons I had to leave my home and… you’re laughing again! Well, I had no reason to leave, that’s a fact. Nothing except the fact I’m a queer hobbit. And Gandalf’s pipe weed probably had something to do with it too. I think I’ll blame him.”

Ori laughed again, and this time Bilbo joined him.

He had had this book in mind for a long time, since he had first come home actually, but at the time the raw pain of it all had stopped him, having lost all the friends he had come to care for. And they were lost to him then, even those who had survived. He had never expected any of them to come, not even Ori. His young lover’s first visit had been a surprise, as had been the following ones. To be honest, even now that he knew it was likely that Ori would come for the summer, his heart still missed a beat every time he opened his door to the dwarf.

The book was to be their work. At least, that was how Bilbo had decided it. He wrote it, and Ori would illustrate it, making it, in a way, their child. The young dwarf had teased him for days after he had said that, but Bilbo hadn’t missed his pleased smile.

The book was theirs. They could never have children, and their marriage was a joke both in the Shire (where men did not marry other men) and in Erebor (where dwarves only married other dwarves) but the book would be a public proof of their love, as public as they dared at least.

“Come on, keep reading,” Ori encouraged him. “Tell me everything there is to know about hobbits and their fascinating lives. You should devote an entire chapter to that, in fact! That’s all the world needs: a sociological study of hobbits.”

“Oh, shut it. That’s it, you’re sleeping in the guest room tonight.”

“No, I’m not, and you know it.”

“You’re lucky to have such a nice ass, or you would sleep alone. Criticizing my writing like that, it’s all you deserve! But let’s continue, or we’ll never be done! _It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say I have honestly never finished the thing about hobbits that opens LotR. I'm sure it's absolutely fascinating. Probably.


	19. In formal wear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very short one, I'm afraid. I love the book husbands, but they've been draining all my inspiration, and I really want to try and work on my other fics too... D:

If anyone had asked Ori’s opinion, he would have said that Bilbo did not wear dwarven clothes nearly often enough.

But that didn’t mean he wanted Bilbo to wear these _where other dwarves could see him_.

Ori wasn’t jealous, not really, but he didn’t like the way others would start looking at his lover whenever he wore one of the tunics he had gifted him. Even now that the braid in the hobbit’s hair clearly signaled that they were engaged, the young dwarf still found excuses to touch his lover when they were in public and Bilbo was dressed like a dwarf.

Sadly, that was more difficult to accomplish when they were at a public celebration of the reclaiming of Erebor, and Bilbo was making a speech in front of the _entire kingdom_. Everyone was looking at him. Everyone was admiring him, and even _Thorin_ seemed to appreciate how well the red silk tunic fitted the hobbit, perfectly tailored to show off his best features while making him look wider of shoulder than he really was, as if he were a stout little beardless dwarf rather than a hobbit.

That pleased the young scholar more than he would have liked to admit. Thorin was welcome to _look_ all he wanted. He’d had his chance, after all, and to that day, Ori was still sure that if Bilbo had received a single kind word from the king during their quest, they would have had a hobbit as their Royal Consort. Thorin had had his chance, and he had _lost_ it.

Ori looked again at his lover, and the way the tunic fell perfectly around him, longing for the moment when the damn celebration would be over and he could take Bilbo home and slowly undress him.

He would have to give the seamstress a little extra next time he bought clothes from her. One had to support artists of such talent.


	20. Dancing

Bilbo had been surprised to discover that Ori loved dancing, though he suspected that the dwarf was just as shocked to realize it. It was not something dwarves did, as a rule, as the young one had tried to explain to half a dozen young hobbit lasses. But they would hear no excuses. They were at a party after, Drogo’s birthday party to be precise, and of course there was music and dancing, and everyone _had_ to participate. It wouldn’t have been a proper party otherwise. It seemed so obvious that Bilbo had not thought of warning Ori, who had just arrived from Erebor to spend the summer in the Shire, just as he had promised to do when they had separated nearly two years earlier.

It had been a very pleasant surprise, though one that Bilbo had forced himself to never expect. And yet there they were. He should have known that dwarves never promised lightly.

Still, it would have been nice to know in advance. It wasn’t like Ori couldn’t write, and a small letter would have been welcome, if only to arrange his schedule a little. Had he known that his lover was on his way, he would _never_ have agreed to come that that party, but when Ori had arrived it had been too late to change his plans.

He had not seen his lover in two years. There were many, _many_ things he wanted to do that night, and none of them involved his cousin’s birthday (though a few _did_ involve cake).

And yet there he was, watching a bunch of tween explaining Ori how to dance the bourrée, all of them making sure they were touching _his_ dwarf as much as possible. Bilbo liked to think he wasn’t a jealous person, but this was a bit too much, even for him. He would have loved to be brave enough to claim Ori as his partner and lover in front of the entire gathering, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that facing the dragon had been easier that that.

Three dances passed before Ori could convince the young ladies that he really was too tired to continue, having just travelled across half of Middle-Earth in a matter of weeks. And even then, he had to promise that he would dance again before the end of the party.

“Hobbits have more endurance than I would have imagined,” he laughed, sitting close to Bilbo. “I think we have all misjudged you kind for years. Three of these girls could have exhausted Smaug just by blabbing at him and dancing around him!”

“And here I thought I had more than proven how strong we hobbits are! Are you saying you’re more impressed by these _tweens_ than by me?”

“I merely thought you an exception rather than a rule,” Ori assured him, caressing his hand. “But no one could impress me more than you, fear not.”

As if to prove his point he leaned toward Bilbo to kiss him, but the hobbit quickly moved back, throwing worried looks around. No one had seemed to notice, thankfully, everyone far too busy eating and dancing.

“Is something wrong?” Ori asked, failing to conceal a hint of pain in his voice. “I… I know it’s been long, but I thought… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed…”

Bilbo took his hand (and that alone was a risk, really) and forced a smile. “Hobbits and dwarves are different, precious. It’s… we cannot show ourselves in public here, not the way we did in Erebor. I’m sorry, I should have told you long ago, but I… I didn’t see the point, I suppose.”

“You thought I wouldn’t come,” Ori said, a spark of contained anger in his voice.

“I did,” Bilbo admitted. “I am sorry to have doubted you, precious, but you… it’s so far away, and you are _young_ , and you’re a hero now, and I… I thought your brothers wouldn’t let you come, and that you would soon have found someone to replace me.”

Ori frowned at that, no longer trying to hide that he was hurt and offended.

“I love you!” he hissed angrily. “And you said you loved me too, and I _promised_ I would come! If you didn’t want me to, you should have written and I would have left you alone.”

“I never said that! Heaven above, I loved you then and I love you now, but you are young and I thought I was just a passing fancy to you, like all young ones have. I’m sorry, I really am, and…”

“I’m older than you, you know.”

Bilbo starred at him, too surprised by that unexpected declaration to react.

“I really am,” Ori insisted. “You said once that you were a little over fifty, right? well, I’m seventy five. And yes, that’s still young for a dwarf, but I thought we had agreed that you wouldn’t treat me like a child now. And i didn’t want to tell you my age because I didn’t know how you’d react, but. Well. I’m not a child. By your standards or by ours, I’m an adult, and if I say I love you, then I do, and if I say I will come and see you as often as possible, then I will. So if you don’t want me, stop looking for excuses and just tell me. I can take it.”

Bilbo had faces dragons and angry kings, but the most difficult thing he had ever done in his life was to resist his sudden impulse to kiss his lover to comfort him. Two years. _Two years_ , and they were both still stupidly insecure about the whole affair, and going to that party had been a _terrible_ idea. He should never have dragged Ori in public, not after such a long absence. He should have kept the dwarf safe inside Bag-End to talk about how much they had missed each other, to decide on how they were going to make their relation work in spite of the distance and of their differences, and then to make love until they were both senseless with pleasure and all their doubts and fears were gone.

It had been a mistake to come to that party, but mistakes were made to be corrected.

Bilbo stood up, Ori’s hand still in his, and he smiled.

“Come, precious. Let’s go home.”

“But I thought…”

“I want to kiss you,” the hobbit whispered, squeezing tenderly his lover’s hand. “And I can’t do that here. So let’s go home, before anyone remembers you’ve promised them another dance. If anyone is to touch you again tonight, it’s _me_ and only me.”

Ori’s smile then made Bilbo’s heart clench from sheer happiness, and it was the best thing he had ever felt in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be fluffy, but then I slipped and it became full of insecurities?  
> I love these two, but I can't help but feel they wouldn't be very confident in love, not at first anyway, and the absence and the distance and everything don't help D:
> 
> Also: YES GETTING NEAR THE END OF THIS THING. Two third of it done èwé


	21. Cooking

Ori was a lovely lad, he really was, and Bilbo loved him more than he had thought he ever could, but there was no denying that his young lover was a disaster in the kitchen.

Even taking into account that dwarves were, as a rule, not as good as hobbits in that domain, Ori was simply _dreadful_ at it. He never had to learn, apparently. Dori was an overprotective mother-hen who refused to let him participate in the the housework, and as a result the small scholar would have starved if left on his own.

Bilbo was rather happy with that, if he had to be honest. He loved cooking, and he liked to take care of Ori, who just happened to adore everything he cooked. Even green food. Of course, the fact that hobbits cooked said green food with plenty of butter, oil, cream and spices helped.

Usually, Ori didn’t help with the preparation. He had tried at first, when their relation was still knew and he was half terrified that Bilbo would leave him if he did anything wrong, but the hobbit had quickly decided that it wasn’t a good idea. Instead, the young dwarf had been encouraged to take care of the dishes, a task that Bilbo himself had never really enjoyed. And while Bilbo cooked, his young lover sat in a chair and looked at him, complimenting the smell of that day’s dish, telling him about what he had done or what he would do, or sometimes just staying silent and watching him cut the vegetables and prepare the meat as if it were the most wonderful thing in the world, no matter how many times Bilbo had done it before.

Ori was a disaster in the kitchen he really was, but neither of them cared about it.


	22. In battle

Bilbo was somewhere down there, among the elves and the men, and he must have felt so lonely and scared, Ori thought. He was no warrior, after all. Neither was the young scholar of course, but he was a dwarf, and warrior or not he knew how to use many sorts of weapons, what to expect of a battle, how to defend himself.

Bilbo knew none of these things. He was a hobbit from the Shire, and though he had learned many things over the past few months, nothing could have prepared him for what was to come. His place wasn't in battle, and had he still been with them, Ori would have...

The young dwarf didn't allow himself to continue that line of thought. Bilbo was no longer with them (and it was unfair of Thorin, because the hobbit had done nothing wrong, but Thorin was king and when he had decided they had to follow, because kings came before all else, no matter how much it _hurt_ ). Nothing could change it now. All he could do was hope that they'd both survive what was to come and that, somehow, Bilbo would still want him after all that, that there was a chance...

Ori looked again outside, et the distance this time, and far away he could see the dark armies of the orcs approaching, so large that it blackened the entire plain like the waves of a dark sea.

There was no chance to be had.

 

* * *

 

The battle was harsh and bloody and gruesome, nothing like what Ori had read in great tales, or heard from his elders. There was nothing glorious in this, nothing but fear and horror, and the overwhelming desire to run away before one of the creatures could kill him, but he couldn't do that, couldn't dishonour his family and his kind.

He fought, and hoped they would all survive.

But he knew they wouldn't.

* * *

 

As the battle went on, Ori found himself separated from the dwarves, and fighting side by side with elves. It didn't take him long to decide it mattered less who with was fighting _with_ than who they were fighting _against_.

He thought, once or twice, that he could catch a glimpse of a shadow on the ground, moving between the orcs and striking silently.

Bilbo.

It had to be him, the young dwarf thought desperately. It had to be him. It had to be, because it would mean he was still alive. And he had to be alive, because Ori didn't know what he would do otherwise.

But he didn't try to reach for where he supposed his lover was, and concentrated on fighting, on staying alive, just a little longer.

But he did turn, when he heard the hobbit's voice, exhausted but delighted, screaming something about eagles. Ori turned to the voice, and one orc sneaked behind him and knocked him out.

 

* * *

 

When he came about, he was in a tent, and Nori was sitting at his side, his arm in a sling, looking more old and tired that Ori had ever seen him. But he was alive, at least. And that was always good news. He needed good news. His head felt full of cotton, and his entire body was heavy, heavier than it had ever been.

“Nori?” he called out, his voice weaker than expected.

“Awake at last?” Nori answered with a feeble smile. “Do will be glad. He was dead worried, but everyone able bodied had to help with the wounded.”

“Did we win then?”

“If you call it winning, yeah. We've had too many losses, even among the company...”

Ori sat up at that, half panicked. He felt faint (too fast, he'd sat too fast) but he still managed to grab his brother's tunic.

“ _Bilbo_?”

“Not found yet, neither by us or the elves. But I'm sure he's alived, he's a crafty little thing.”

“He was near me. When I... when I blacked out, he was near me, I heard his voice but I couldn't see him, I think he had his ring on. What if he's hurt and no one can see him?”

“Calm down, Ori,” Nori said, pushing him back on his makeshift bed. “I'll go warn the wizard, and Gandalf will make sure that someone find him and bring him back safely. We'll find your hobbit, Ori,and I'll bring him back to you I promise, but for now you must rest. Can you do that?”

The young dwarf nodded drowsily. He soon fell asleep, certain that Bilbo would soon be there. Nori had promised.

 

* * *

 

Ori felt better when he woke up again, but the powerful smell of broth made him realize he was starving. Luckily, the smell came from a bowl in Dori's hands, and it was for him.

“Eat.”

“Bilbo?”

“ _Eat_.”

The young dwarf knew better than to insist when his brother had decided that he was to be fed. He swiftly emptied the bowl, and put it aside.

“ _Bilbo_?”

“They found him, and he was brought straight to Thorin. He... where do you think you're going?”

“To see him,” Ori said, jumping out of his bed and running outside before his brother could stop him.

Bilbo was alive, and he was with Thorin. That couldn't be good, not with the way these two had parted. Ori had to find them, and he had to protect his hobbit against that idiotic king and his pride, he had to make sure his lover was safe, the way he hadn't been able to during the battle, he had to protect him, he had to...

Finding Thorin's tent had been easy enough, and after that, finding Bilbo had been even easier. The hobbit was sitting on the floor, curled up as if he had been hurt, and crying. Ori's heart clenched at the sight. What had the king _done_ to him to put him in such a state? If Thorin had _dared_ to hurt him again...

Forcing himself to calm down a little, the young dwarf knelt down next to his lover, and pulled Bilbo in his arms. The hobbit didn't resist. Considering they were in public, and he was usually easily embarrassed by open displays of affection, this was worrying. What had Thorin _done_ to him?

“What's the matter, Bilbo?” Ori asked shyly. “Are you hurt?”

The sobs against his chest redoubled, but Bilbo shook his head.

“Did... did Thorin say anything to you? Because if he did, I _swear_ I, I'll make him regret it. Because what you did was right, and he shouldn't have treated you like that, and...”

“He's d-dead,” Bilbo stuttered. “He j-juste died, but he f-forgave me, and he's dead, and it's not _fair_ , Ori, it's just not fair. He wasn't supposed to d-die! I did it so save _him_ , it's not fair.”

Ori did not answer.

Somehow, he would have preferred it if Thorin had been alive, and had insulted Biblo even further.

It would have been easier to deal with than this sudden last act of kindness. Thorin disappearing, leaving this last memory of a magnanimous ruler was...

“Are you hurt, my boy?” Bilbo asked, looking up. “Sorry, I should have asked sooner. Oh, and your head is bandaged, and...”

“I'm fine, just a bump. It's okay. You're okay, so it's okay. Are _you_ hurt?”

“Same as you, my boy. And awfully hungry, come to think of it. Damn, I feel silly, but I'm starving, really, and...”

Ori chuckled sadly, and hugged his hobbit tighter, kissing the top of his head. They were alive, and unhurt, and nothing else mattered.

“Let's go get you something to eat then.”


	23. Arguing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /!\ Angst warning  
> I got a little... melodramatic for today's theme, and tomorrow's one is probably even worse.  
> I'll try to only write fluff after that! D:

“Look, Ori, how difficult is it really to put those plates in the right cupboard?”

_Please don’t go._

“Why are you so angry?” Ori sighed. “It’s just _plates_.”

“To you it’s just plates,” Bilbo countered, “but to me it’s a precious heirloom and I want to know where they are!”

_You’ll never come back if you go. Dwalin told me, once. People who go there never come back._

“They weren’t _lost_ , Bilbo, they were just _in the wrong cupboard_. I can’t see why you’re making a scene.”

“Because it matters, that’s why I’m making a scene!”

_I can’t lose you, I love you too much._

“It’s easy for you to be careless, Ori, none of this is yours.”

_I’ll die if I lose you._

“You come and go as you please, you’re just as bad as Nori, really!”

_Except I can’t even die, I have Frodo, I have to take care of him._

“But I live here, and I need to have a few rules, and I would have thought that after years of coming here, you would remember a few of those!”

_If you go to the Moria you’ll never come back, and I love you, and I can’t live without you but I can’t die either, and I’ll just stay here and be broken._

“So I would appreciate it if you made an effort and tried to put things in their proper place, thank you very much!”

_Please don’t go. Please don’t go. Please don’t leave me. Please don’t do that to me. I love you too much now. So please. Please don’t go. Please don’t go._


	24. making up afterwards

Bilbo kissed him and yawned, looking every bit like a pleased cat, and Ori couldn’t refrain a smile. He loved see his husband like this, so content and happy, their earlier argument entirely forgotten.

_I’ll miss him. I’ll miss him so much when I go with Balin._

“You are far too good at this,” Bilbo said with a pleased grin. “If I weren’t so old, I’d ask for another go.”

“You’re not so old,” Ori protested, laughing.

_Except he is. He’s younger than me but he’s already so old, and he won’t last much longer, a few decades maybe. And it’s become too difficult, coming from Erebor, but I can’t settle here, people would talk and that would reflect badly on him and on Frodo._

“You are… aged, like good wine, it’s very different.”

Bilbo laughed, and kissed his chin.

_I love his laugh. I love his kisses. I love how upset he is when I tease him. I love his weight against me when we sit and read together. I love him when he’s happy, and I love him when he’s angry. I love him when he’s scared too, and I wish I could make him see why I have to follow Balin._

“You can say I’m old, precious, I know I am.”

“What if I am in denial over my shameful passion for scandalous old hobbits with so little morals that they even lie with dwarves?”

_We used to make love every day when I was here, and now it’s lucky if we manage once or twice a week. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, he just can’t. I want him so much and he can’t want me any more. That’s why I have to go. I have duties to Erebor, but if I can fulfil them in Khazad Dum, then it’ll be easier to come here, or to work for them from a distance. I want to be here when… I have to be here when the end comes for him. I love him so much, I need to be here when he dies._

“You might be in denial, precious, but then let me tell you that everyone else already knows about it.”

“Shh, let me have my illusions!”

_I love him so much, and I’ll lose him no matter what I do. I don’t want to follow Balin, that place brings only death. But it’s the only way I can still be with Bilbo, and I’d rather die than lose him._

“You look so thoughtful tonight,” Bilbo commented, just a hint of worry in his voice. “Anything the matter?Is it about earlier? I’m so sorry I yelled, precious, I’m just a little tired this days, and…”

“I know, love. I know. And you were right, I’ll be more careful next time.”

“What were you thinking about, then?”

“Nothing. I’m just a little tired too, that’s all.”

“Let’s try to sleep, then. Shouldn’t be too hard. You’ve exhausted me tonight, love.”

Ori forced a laugh, and blew their candle.

_I love him so much, and I’ve lost him already._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry, and the rest will be fluff. If I can.


	25. gazing into each others' eyes

Dori let out an exasperated sigh. They were doing it _again_. It was getting ridiculous, really. And Nori wasn’t helping, sniggering and smirking.

“Do you think they even realize they’re doing it, Do?”

Dori shrugged. He wasn’t sure. Even before he became involved with Ori, Bilbo had been nothing but shy about demonstrations of affection of all sorts, so he probably wasn’t aware of it. But Ori? The idiot probably did realize it, and he certainly was enjoying every moment of it.

Not that there was anything shameful about gazing into each others’ eyes. It was just. Sappy and foolish, really. Dori refused to call it _sweet_ , though Nori did.

Sentimental old bugger. Thought himself cold hearted and above sentiments, but as soon as he saw their brother going all mushy over a hobbit, he was cooing and crying tears of joy.

Dori was the only one of them to have any sense, honestly.

Though Ori and Bilbo did look rather cute, sitting next to each other, close enough to _almost_ touch, whispering about something and never letting their eyes leave the other’s face.

So, maybe it was _sweet_ , then. Sweet enough to make him sick, really.

“You’re smiling,” Nori signaled him. “Thought you might want to know. Could ruin your reputation and everything.”

“Oh, go bother Bombur and leave me alone.”


	26. getting married

There had been a long confusion about who should initiate the engagement, because while Ori was older in age, Bilbo was the more mature of the two. Technically, that meant _he_ should have been the one asking the question, but Ori had grown tired of waiting for his lover to overcome his anxieties, and had taken matters in his own hands.

The look of sheer joy and love on the hobbit’s face when Ori had asked him to marry him was something the young dwarf wouldn’t ever forget, not even if he were to live to 300. Bilbo had agreed, of course. They had been living together in Erebor for five years already. Ori had _expected_ him to agree. But until the last minute he hadn’t been sure, a small, dark part of him convinced that at the last moment Bilbo would decide he didn’t want him, that he wanted Thorin, or Bofur, or that he’d rather go back to the Shire than marry a dwarf.

But Bilbo accepted him.

And nothing could ever have made him happier, except _maybe_ finding a script of the Valaquenta in the hand of Rumil himself.

* * *

 

Everyone was very accepting of their decision, in spite of the strangeness of a dwarf marrying a halfling.

And by accepting, Ori meant that everyone teased them mercilessly, joking about them finally going honest, after years of living together without any proper engagement.

Coming from _Nori_ , that was rich, that really was.

But Ori just rolled his eyes, while Bilbo grumbled playfully, protesting at their horrible treatment of him and threatening to elope if they didn’t act any nicer.

* * *

 

Engagements, as a rule, tended to be long for dwarves, but Ori managed to convince Thorin that they should be allowed to speed up the process. After all the point of a long engagement was to make sure people were compatible, and they’d shared apartments since after the Battle of the Five Armies. If they weren’t compatible now, they’d never be.

Dori was horrified that they were rushing things, but he’d have found something to be horrified about anyway. It was better than Nori who wished Ori had really eloped with his hobbit, all because he found big ceremonies boring (and because he’d probably cry, sentimental old thing that he was. Ori wasn’t fooled). Thorin requested the honour of marrying them himself (who was honoured wasn’t clear though, as Thorin probably thought he was honouring them, but Ori was of a different mind). They both agreed to that request

It would be a private wedding of course, with only the members of the company and a few very close friends (Dis, Gloin’s son Gimli, the human innkeeper from Dale and her dwarf husband). Bilbo was an accepted member of Erebor’s life, but he still wasn’t a dwarf, and the whole thing was rather scandalous. The wedding couldn’t even be performed in Khuzdul, as was traditional, because Bilbo didn’t speak it and wasn’t allowed to learn it. (he’d asked, once, and Ori had explained why it wasn’t possible. Bilbo had never asked again). Legally, it was almost a joke, really, but it was real to them, and that was what mattered in the end.

And it _did_ amuse Dori, Balin and Gandalf so much to plan everything.

* * *

 

Their wedding day was magical.

Kili and Fili got drunk and both sang a serenade to Bofur, Nori got into a fight with Gloin over some emerald earings, Balin made it clear to everyone that he didn’t quite agree with Ori’s translation of the traditional vows.

But Ori didn’t care. Bilbo was now wearing in his hair a pearl he’d made himself out of gold, while he was wearing Bilbo’s wooden one.

They were happy.

And nothing else mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rumil is, apparently, the elf who invented writing, and composed a great part of the Silmarilion. If scribes of Middle Earth have a patron saint, it's him :)


	27. On one of their birthdays

As a youth, Ori had never been overly fond of birthdays.

When he was very young, he was rarely given any presents. Even sweets or a small cake would have been more than they could afford then.

Later, Nori took up his jobs, and ori did get present. But it would bring such terrible arguments between his brothers that the pleasure of it was ruined. The inks and books were nice, but he’d rather have seen Dori and Nori get along again. It took him years to realize they’d never been close, that his birthdays were nothing more than an excuse for them.

Soon after he turned fifty, Nori left home. He still sent presents, but it just wasn’t the same without him there, at home. Ori had not seen him again until they all went together on that quest. Since his birthday had been a few days before they left for the Shire, he had decided that this, being again with both his brothers, had been his birthday present.

It was the best one he’d ever had.

* * *

 

Things were different now.

Money was no longer an issue, not with the treasures of Erebor in their hands. No one in the Company had kept their full share of the gold, instead donating parts of it to help rebuild the mountain, but that still left them with more money than they could spend in a lifetime. Nori _bought_ things now, and he’d gone as honest as he’d ever be, working under Thorin’s orders.

Dori and Nori still argued on his birthday, though.

It annoyed him greatly, but he tried to see it as a tradition of sorts. And at least he wasn’t alone to face it this time. The entire company had come to celebrate with them, even Thorin, who had made some time for it. It was all very embarrassing, and Ori wasn’t sure he deserved such attention, but it all elt rather nice.

And there was Bilbo, of course.

Ori had never celebrated a birthday with a lover before. The few he’d had just hadn’t been the kind he could bring home to Dori. But Bilbo was already part of the family, both his brothers liked him, and Ori had never been so in love. He had never really believed in having a One before, but he was starting to. Bilbo wasn’t perfect, but it was a near thing.

That idea brought a smile to his lips, and since the hobbit was sitting next to him, Ori kissed his temple. Just because he _could_. Bilbo smiled at him.

“You know, I still don’t know how old you’re turning, my boy. No one has told me.”

“I’m seventy-three.”

“You’re joking!” Bilbo exclaimed, his eyes widening. “But you don’t look a day over thirty five!”

“Dwarves age slower,” Ori answered with a laugh. “But I’m still young. Too young to take anyone to bed, if you listen to Dori, but I could be two hundred and he’d still see me as a babe.”

The joke didn’t amuse Bilbo, who looked awfully serious and deep in thought. Ori worried that the news might be a problem. But after a moment, Bilbo pressed against him and put an arm around the dwarf’s waist.

“I can’t really call you a boy now, can I?” he sighed. “I’ll have to find something more fitting now.”

“Not jewel, please, that’s what Nori used to call me as a child. Otherwise, anything goes.”

“I’ll think about it,” Bilbo promised. “Now tell me, because I asked Bofur, but he’s never serious about anything, and this is just so _weird_ , but… am I really meant to _give_ you a present?”

“Only if you want to,” Ori quickly answered, trying not to sound too hurt. “There’s no obligation.”

“Really? You dwarves are such a queer lot. It’s a very sad way of doing things, if I may say, but among men you wear boots, as we say. Still, I’ll be doing my birthday the Shire way, I think. Being given presents on your own birthday! I’ve never heard anything so strange!”

“What’s the Shire way, then?”

“We give presents to other people, of course, as is the civilized way to do these things. I knew men had a different approach to it, but I though dwarves were more sensible than that. I still got you something of course, but I was hoping it was just another joke from Bofur.”

Ori, stunned for a moment, burst out laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of that Shire tradition. Bilbo glared at him, offended by that hilarity, but Ori only had to kiss him to make his frown disappear.

“Keep that for the bedroom!” Kili teased behind them. “The last thing i want to see is you two making out!”

Bilbo blushed at that, and there were a few laughs, but the hobbit kept his arm around his lover’s waist, much to Ori’s joy.

He was starting to rather like birthdays.


	28. doing something ridiculous

Don’t drink with Nori.

That was Bilbo’s new motto as of that day.

Drinking with dwarves was never a good idea, but Nori was particularly dangerous because he always managed to make you drink more without ever realizing it.

It was to the point where Bilbo couldn’t even remember getting to bed. He supposed Ori must have helped him walk back home. Probably. There was a lot about the previous night that he couldn’t remember. And there was something in the smile of his young lover that told him that what he’d forgotten was awfully embarrassing. Looking at him like that from the other pillow, the dwarf looked an horrible lot like Nori when he’d just learned a good story.

“What did I do, then?”

Ori grinned. “It’s not what you did, as much as what you said.”

“Meaning?”

“Poetry,” Ori said, looking entirely too pleased.

Bilbo groaned. That didn’t sound good.

“You composed a sonnet about me,” his lover announced. “You compared me to the Arkenstone.”

“I did not!”

Ori laughed. “You did. ‘ _Thy eyes, bright as the Heart of the Mountain’_ …”

“Oh please stop.”

”’ _Thy bottom, soft as a cushion_ ‘…”

“I’m serious, Ori. Stop.”

”’ _And when I lie with thee_ ‘…”

Bilbo groaned again, his cheeks burning in embarrassment.

“Who heard that, apart from you?”

“You asked everyone to gather around you and listen to you because it was your masterpiece. And none of us was as drunk as you, so everyone must remember. Sorry.”

“You should have stopped me.”

“What, and miss a poem composed entirely about me? And it wasn’t all that bad, really. Bit more… naughty than your usual stuff, but nothing bad compared to some drinking songs I’ve heard before. It was. Sweet, really. I… I rather liked it. The rhymes weren’t perfect, but it made me feel, well. Appreciated. Loved, even.”

Bilbo smiled, and stroked the dwarf’s cheek.

“I’m not doing my job very well if it takes a drunken recitation to make you feel loved.”

Ori mumbled something.

“What was that, precious?”

“I said I feel loved the rest of the time too, but that was a bit like in the grand old tales, is all.”

“Should I do it again, then?”

“It’s not necessary,” Ori grumbled, blushing. “Oh Mahal, you’re going to make fun of me now, aren’t you?”

“I’d never dare, precious. But _Shall I compare you to a glowing diamond_?”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” Bilbo laughed, kissing him.


	29. Doing something sweet

It was raining outside, the sort of heavy rain that was just a few drops away from being a storm. Bilbo had made tea for both of them while Ori had fetched his husband’s favourite pipe weed and the books they were reading at the moment. Bilbo was in the middle of  treaty on poetry (“boring” Ori joked) and Ori was almost at the end of the Silmarilion (“If your brothers saw you read Elvish legends!” Bilbo teased).

They sat together on the couch, Ori drinking his strong black tea (“that stuff has to be poison” Bilbo always said when he deigned to taste it), Bilbo smoking some Old Toby (“don’t know how you do it” Ori often laughed). It did not take long until Bilbo wasn’t seated next to the dwarf as much as half atop him, his head on his husband’s shoulder, Ori’s arm around his waist.

It was raining outside, but they were warm inside, and they had good books.

Sometimes, happiness was that easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short one, sorry! D:  
> also, I changed the ratings because apparently, tomorrow's ficlet will be a little smutty, if I manage it.


	30. Doing something hot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /!\ badly written porn, advance at own risks
> 
> Also, this is the last chapter! Thanks everyone for following this little challenge, I have to say I'm very happy and moved by how many people seemed to like this, and the many comments I got!  
> I don't really have other plans for that pairing at the moment, but I might come back to it later, because they are cuties. Until then, I hope this will inspire other people to write about our favourite Middle Earth bookworms!:D

Dwarves liked gold, there was nothing new in that. And Ori had a… a thing, a _taste_ for seeing Bilbo in all sorts of outfits, that wasn’t new either.

The hobbit didn’t mind that. Ocasionnaly enjoyed it, in fact, even if he didn’t share the absolute lust that possessed Ori sometimes. But Bilbo certainly played with it, going out in public dressed in a way that he knew would catch Ori’s interest, because he knew the dwarf’s surge of possessiveness always promised an _interesting_ evening.

Bilbo had never complained about it in the past. He still wasn’t complaining.

* * *

 

Ori had slowly undressed him as soon as he’d come home from a council with Thorin, while remaining clothed himself, and there was a small chest on their bed.

“New outfit?” Bilbo asked, grown used to such things.

Ori nodded and opened the chest, revelling golden jewelry. The young dwarf rummaged for a moment, then picked a large necklace with rubies and diamonds that he put around Bilbo’s neck. It was cold, and heavy, but the hobbit didn’t complain, curious to see where things were going.

Over the next few minutes, Ori conscientiously covered him in necklaces and bracelets, putting heavy rings on his fingers and a delicate belt on his hips, tying his hair with beads of gold and silver. All the while the young dwarf kept silent, his face serious as he let his hands run over the hobbit’s skin with each new item he decorated him with.

When, at last, Bilbo was covered in gold from head to toe, his young lover stepped back and gasped, an almost pained look on his face.

“You are perfect,” he whispered reverently. “Even more beautiful than I expected.”

Bilbo lowered his head, looking at the decorations on his hands and wrists. “I feel a little silly. I must look ridiculous.”

“You look wonderful!” Ori protested heatedly, stepping closer and brushing the tip of his fingers over his lover’s jaw. “You are like a fallen star, like a great a king, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Thorin can’t have wanted his Arkenstone more than I want you right now.”

Bilbo sniggered. “Not the best of comparisons, precious.”

“Accurate, though,” the young dwarf replied, chastely kissing him. “You are so beautiful, and you’re letting me do this to you, and… oh, you have no idea what this _does_ to me.”

“Not much, I’d say,” Bilbo teased. “I’m almost naked and you’ve barely _touched_ me at all so far.”

Ori groaned and kissed him again, one hand slipping to the back of Bilbo’s head, the other roaming all over his body, caressing gold and skin alike. The feeling of the warming metal shifting over his burning flesh had Bilbo shivering.

“I want you in me tonight,” Ori announced, nibbling at his lover’s ear. “All golden and in control and fucking me. Would you like that?”

Bilbo nodded quickly, his fingers already fumbling with the buttons of Ori’s tunic. They rarely made love that way, the hobbit still not entirely comfortable enough with the act, but he still very much enjoyed those few times where _he_ took Ori, and with the young dwarf asking like that… he couldn’t have resisted if he’d tried.

“I used to be so respectable,” he sighed, divesting the scholar of his tunic. “And now look at me, ready to bugger a dwarf, looking like a courtesan.”

“Like a king,” Ori gasped as Bilbo kissed and sucked at his neck. “Courtesans wear _white_ gold, and sapphires, not rubies. I dressed you like a _king_.”

“Then I’ll do my best to make love to you as one. Come on, precious. Bed. Now.”

Ori hurriedly removed his trousers and pants, almost stumbling as he did so, before jumping on their bed. Bilbo couldn’t help a smile at his eagerness, and went to fetch the bottle of oil they used of this. When he returned to the bed, he stopped at the sight before him: Ori was lying on his back, legs spread open, one hand nonchalantly stroking himself, grinning shyly at the hobbit.

“And I used to worry about corrupting you!” Bilbo said.

“Oh, but you did,” Ori laughed. “I’d never have dared to make a lover dress like that before you. And it appears you’ve made me develop an addiction to scandalous hobbits. You keep saying your people doesn’t have any magic, but I’m starting to think the elf-witch of Lorien is nothing compared to a hobbit when it comes to charming poor innocent young lads.”

“Shush, or I’ll gag you.”

Ori laughed again, and Bilbo kissed him before moving down to prepare him. If he were to be honest, that was probably his favourite part. He liked having the young dwarf like this, moaning and moving against his fingers while he remained clear-headed enough to really see and hear it. And Ori was particularly vocal this time, the added stimulation of the cold gold rings against his heated skin making him whimper.

When Bilbo closed his lips around the head of his erection, Ori started begging, and it was more than the hobbit could resist. He moved back up to kiss the dwarf.

“Let me just remove all that gold, love.”

“No, no! Keep it,” Ori ordered, his voice shaking. “You’ve got to keep it, _that’s the point of it._ ”

“It will leave marks, precious,” Bilbo warned him.

“ _Yes_. Keep it. keep it all. Please, love, I want you now, _please_.”

Bilbo kissed him again, then oiled himself, keeping his eyes on his lover. When he settled between Ori’s legs, the young dwarf threw his arms around his neck to pull him closer. Bilbo could help a chuckle at his eagerness, and kissed him again as he began pushing in. The noises Ori made when Bilbo started thrusting slowly were simply delightful.

They did not last long. Ori never lasted long when he had Bilbo all dressed up, and the hobbit could never resist the tight heat of his lover’s body. They finished nearly at the same time, Bilbo burrying his cries in the dwarf’s shoulder as he came.

They lay silently side by side after that, trying to catch their breath again, until Bilbo chuckled. Ori threw him a curious look.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” the hobbit sighed, brushing away one of the dwarf’s braids. “I was just thinking that all dwarves really do love gold, in the end.”

“Or you could say that I really love you, _even_ dressed in gold,” Ori mumbled sleepily.

“If you can called that dressed. There’s more skin shown than hidden.”

“Which is _exactly_ how I like it.”

Bilbo laughed again, quickly joined by Ori.

Dwarves _loved_ gold, and Bilbo was starting to appreciate it too.


End file.
